A Secret Long Forgotten
by HB rules
Summary: Constance never realised what she could have, and how easily it could be taken away. When you gain something so precious, how cruel that haunting figures from the past can take everything away as they have done before. Contains adult themes, be warned.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 – Term Ends**

A frost-bitten wind blew relentlessly, a swirling blizzard of snow covering Cackle's Academy in a thickening blanket of snow. The sky was a darkened grey, with no hint of sunlight to break the destructive weather and the trees in the forest surrounding the majestic castle shuddered from the force of the powerful gales. Inside the castle, holly and tinsel hung from the low ceilings and festive music played throughout the halls; Christmas was fast approaching and there was only one more lesson before the girls could finally escape for two weeks of what they considered to be a long overdue break. One hour was all that stood between the pupils of the academy and their winter break, but not everyone was looking forward to the festive season.

The fourth year girls filed into the year's final potions class, sitting at their desks in unusual silence. They were not planning to jeopardise their freedom by angering their deputy headmistress, form tutor and potions teacher and ending up in detention on the last day of term.

'Where's HB?' whispered Maud Moonshine, as she took her place by her friends.

'Dunno, maybe she's...' began Mildred Hubble, a pupil who was infamous throughout the school for her tendency to cause calamity and commotion wherever she went. She did not, however, finish her hushed sentence, as she gave a short gasp. Miss Constance Hardbroom materialised in front of her class from nowhere, her arms folded across her chest and an icy stare on anyone who dared to utter another word.

'Any talking or misbehaviour in this next hour, regardless of the date, will result in two hours of detention this evening and a delayed trip home. Christmas is no excuse to abdicate responsibility for hard work, do I make myself clear?' Her voice was sharp and stern, a warning to any girl who felt an urge to cause trouble in her classroom. Miss Hardbroom's whole demeanour induced fear in the girls sat before her. Her dark hair was tied in a tight, plaited bun which sat unmoving at the top of her head and her eyes were the darkest shade of unyielding black the girls had ever seen, only showing a flicker of emotion when she shouted at her pupils. She wore the same long, black dress with long sleeves and a high neck that she donned every day and although she was thin, some would say too much so, her height and strict features gave her the power and influence to easily dominate the classroom. No student had ever admitted to liking Miss Hardbroom, but each student had confessed their fear as she watched over them with her meticulous hawk-like glare and it was no secret to her that she was widely hated. To her, it was the only way she knew to command a classroom and she had long since learnt that emotions were her amalgamation of weakness. She never smiled, never cried and had the best reputation as a potions teacher in the country.

'Yes Miss Hardbroom,' chorused the girls in reply, sensing the foul mood of their teacher and gritting their teeth, each pupil watching the clock in the corner of their eye.

'As you know, the fourth year mid-year exams will be taking place after the holidays are over and I expect you have all started revising hard.' Mildred shot a look of horror at Enid Nightshade, her trusted friend who sat to her right. It was evident from Enid's glare that the thought had not even crossed her mind.

'The essay I will write on the board is a practice, similar to the one in your potions exam in January, and I expect 2000 words in the next 55 minutes. You may begin.' Miss Hardbroom turned to the blackboard at the front of the classroom and flexed her right hand, causing the title of the essay to appear magically on the board.

Miss Hardbroom sat at the front of the classroom, her head down to allow her to mark the fifth year assignments she had set that morning. They were, even for the last day of term, of a poor standard and she sighed inwardly as she graded the writing. She was also, of course, taking note of the students before her. As she had expected, Ethel Hallow had almost finished with plenty of time to spare, but Mildred was in a state of visible confusion and seemed to have barely written one side. It did not surprise her, but the fact that her efforts to teach the girl seemed to hold no merit in Mildred's eyes filled her with a disapproving dismay. The bell rang to signify the end of the lesson and of the term, and Miss Hardbroom stood up, imposing the silence she had asked for upon her students.

'Time is up, you may leave quietly, placing your essays at the front of the classroom and heading out to the hall where you will be escorted to your brooms so that you are able to leave. That includes you, Mildred Hubble,' warned Miss Hardbroom as Mildred attempted to scribble a few last words onto the page.

'I am nearly done Miss Hardbroom, I just...' in trying to finish her essay, Mildred's elbow knocked over the bottle of ink which she had been using which quickly stained her essay. Mildred got to her feet to try and stem the flow of ink, but caught her foot on the chair and fell backwards into a bookshelf which began to rock menacingly.

The other fourth years watched in horror as the bookshelf began to fall on Mildred, but Miss Hardbroom acted with such speed, the girls did not quite see what happened next. Mildred had closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to come; but it did not. She cautiously opened her eyes to see the bookshelf half fallen but frozen in mid-air, held up by an invisible force controlled by her potions teacher. Terrified, she scurried out from under the bookshelf as Miss Hardbroom restored it to its upright position, without a single book falling on the floor and gave Mildred a look that made the tumultuous gusts outside seem like a light, tender breeze.

'Mildred Hubble, I suggest that you leave this classroom at once before I give you two weeks' worth of detention,' said Miss Hardbroom, her voice quivering with rage as the students exited her classroom quicker than they ever had before.

'You've done it now Mildred,' remarked Maud.

'It was an accident,' explained Mildred hopelessly, knowing that it was, as always, down to her impossibly clumsy nature.

'Never mind, she didn't kill you which is something. Cheer up Millie, two weeks off!' Enid's words brought a sincere smile upon Mildred's face and she joined her friends in the hall where the talk turned to holiday plans.

Miss Amelia Cackle came out from the blizzard brewing outside covered in a layer of snow with her grey bob in tangles and her glasses askew. As headmistress of the academy, she was a kind and caring woman who often took on a maternal role towards the children, never having had any of her own. A thick woollen cardigan covered her black dress and she shuddered from the cold which still lingered inside the castle.

'Miss Cackle, we really must discuss Mildred Hubble once more. I know...'

'Sorry, Constance, but we have bigger problems,' Miss Cackle interrupted. 'The blizzard is too bad to fly through and there can be no means of public transport until Monday morning!' Frustrated by the headmistress' blasé attitude towards what she considered to be the academy's only fundamental problem, Constance marched out into the blizzard where she was greeted by a wind so strong it nearly blew her off her feet. She raised her arms into the air and, without even muttering an incantation, sent a bolt of hot, white energy into the sky where it collided with the clouds, giving off a rumble similar to thunder. Immediately, the wind stopped and the rest of the snow fell gently to the ground. With another sweep of her arms, the snow cleared the courtyard, sorting itself into neat piles around the perimeter and leaving a clear path to the broom shed and Walker's Gate.

Walking back inside, even Miss Cackle was impressed with Constance's command of magic. Weather was one of the most temperamental things to deal with where magic was concerned and was open to the foster's effect, but her deputy had handled it with ease.

'Well done Constance. Come on now girls, the weather has cleared and it is time for the holidays to begin!' The girls cheered at Miss Cackle's address and began to make their way outside to the shed.

Ten minutes later, the last first year had departed on her broomstick, leaving Miss Cackle and Miss Hardbroom alone in the courtyard.

'Now headmistress, can we please discuss Mildred Hubble! She disrupted my potions class again this afternoon and I fear she will simply disregard her studies over the holidays in place of meaningless frivolities,' Miss Hardbroom said voicing her concerns. She followed Miss Cackle as she headed inside the school, walking along side her.

'I see your point Constance, you know I do, however I am afraid there is little we can do now. I suggest we wait until after the holidays until the exams; then we will see whether she is working to her full potential.' Miss Hardbroom followed Miss Cackle into the staffroom, sighing at how she always dismissed Mildred with such hopeful optimism when both parties knew that there would be no change in the girl's behaviour.

Miss Bat and Miss Drill, the chanting and PE teachers at the academy, were both sat in chairs beside the fire taking biscuits from an open tin on the coffee table. Miss Hardbroom resisted arguing further with Amelia, as she knew it would come to no end, and simply checked through her post tray. She had no desire to partake in pointless small-talk with her other colleagues.

'Davina, Imogen, will you join me in a celebratory drink at the village pub? It's not every day that one of Cackles' longest terms ends,' asked Miss Cackle, her smile warm and comforting.

'Definitely, I need a drink. You coming Constance?' inquired Miss Drill, looking over at Miss Hardbroom who was flicking through the letters and publications she had been sent.

'No,' said Miss Hardbroom bluntly. She did not take part in indulgences such as alcohol merely for the sake of pleasure and had no intention of wasting an evening sitting in the corner whilst the other teachers drank and socialised with others.

'Are you going to Mongolia for the holidays, Davina?' asked Imogen, changing the subject swiftly.

'Yes, but I will be back on Christmas Eve, for our usual celebration!' Miss Bat referred, as Constance painstakingly remembered, to one of the two social events which she was always forced to attend: the staff Christmas Eve drink. She had never enjoyed such an evening, and further dreaded the monotony of the following New Years Eve party, if could even be called such an inappropriate thing.

'Are we off?' Miss Bat asked as she unhooked he cloak from the peg by the door.

'You and Imogen go ahead,' replied Miss Cackle, 'I will catch up in a moment.' It was clear to Constance that Miss Cackle wish to talk to her alone, something which made her rather uncomfortable at the best of times. She could always sense when Amelia wished to break the impenetrable fortress which protected her, sealing off her emotions and bare soul to conceal her dignity. It would be the same this year as any other, so why did she try?

Constance continued to work, her head buried deep in a book she was reading to further her knowledge of healing potions, pretending to ignore Miss Cackle who patiently waited.

'Was there something you wanted, headmistress?' she asked, feigning innocence.

'I take it you will be, once again, staying within the castle over Christmas?' Amelia, of course, knew the answer but it was a good way to lead into the conversation she had tried to have so many times with her deputy.

'Yes, Miss Cackle. It is far easier for me here as I have access to more ingredients and the post is delivered daily rather than weekly. You know why I stay,' she said sharply, looking up at Amelia who seemed in a relentless mood.

'I know, Constance, but why do you hide yourself away? Why do you disappear into your room and work for two weeks rather than going home or to visit family or even go on holiday? You constrict your life, Constance, and I hate to see it wasted.'

'So I am wasting my life am I?' Her tone was harsher than Amelia had heard in a long time. She had touched more of a nerve than she had meant to.

'It is my life, Amelia, and I will do with it what I please. Now, if you'll excuse me...' she returned to her book and the silence which lingered seemed to last forever.

'I consider you a true friend, Constance. I hope you know that. I have known you for twenty years, ever since I offered you this position at Cackle's, and I know more about you than any other. I just ask that you trust me, as I trust you. One day, you will want to talk and I want you to know I will always be there. In relation, I expect you to be at The Pondweed at seven sharp on Christmas Eve.' Ending on a lighter note, Amelia hoped as she always did that she would receive any flicker of emotion from Constance. She had seen Constance rise from the ashes, a true fighter coming from a past so dark she had not even confided in her only ally. There were so many mysteries surrounding this woman, but as she left to join her fellow teachers, she knew that the time would soon come where she would have to be there, for Constance to open up to her, and the truth would be revealed.

Constance had not even looked up as Miss Cackle left the room and was left in solidarity, as she liked it. For once she almost wished she had felt something for the woman she could consider a friend, whether it be anger or gratitude, but her heart was cold. There was nothing more to feel.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, this is my first attempt at a story by the way and I am just learning the ropes, (as you can tell because I only just realised how to put a comment on XD) **

**so I would much appreciate any reviews :) At least that way I know someone is reading it...**

**Enjoy Chapter 2, the first Chapter was more of an introduction and this is where some of the main story comes in. Bear with, it will all make sense soon**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2 – Christmas Eve<strong>

Miss Hardbroom jolted awake, the smoky remnants of a dream reaching beyond her grasp as she struggled to remember what the nightmare had been about. Although she knew there was no-one else in the castle she still looked around, conscious of her one moment of vulnerability. The nightmare had been the same one she had encountered many times before, but she had long since trained herself to dismiss the specifics. Dwelling on the past was a sign of weakness, she thought to herself, as she rose out of her bed.

Constance's room contained the pure essence of her character. One wall was covered by a bookshelf which reached from the floor to the ceiling, harbouring hundreds of books all filled with spells and potions. Beside her bed was a small wardrobe, which contained the few indistinguishable black dresses she owned. Constance spent most of her time working at the wooden desk which was covered in piles of neatly organised papers and letters, everything from hypotheses to be published to letters to the Grand Wizard Hellibore himself, providing advice on the best potion for curing a sore head after a night of Christmas celebration. Looking at the clock on her wall, Constance noted that it was half past four. The open window displayed the darkened forest, still bathed only in the light of the watching moon and the frozen air was still, despite the torrents of snow which had swept through the castle in the past weeks.

Remembering the date, Constance let out an exasperated breath. It was Christmas Eve, a day which would not normally have meant anything more to her than another number on the calendar, but she was expected to suffer the involuntary torture of socialising with her fellow teachers that very evening. Why they expected her to enjoy such an occasion Constance would never know, and after taking a dose of Wide-Awake potion she sat at her desk brushing her long, black hair until it was smooth and shiny. Her morning routine had not changed during the holidays, other than the fact that she did not have to check that the girls were up and ready for a day of learning. She knew what Miss Cackle would say to think of her alone in the castle, working in her lab or at her desk and only ever taking a break to walk amongst the grounds practising spells or gathering potion supplies. Although someone she considered a friend, Amelia knew too much about Constance already. The moon watched Constance dress in the same black dress she wore every day and wondered why she chose such a garment; so concealing and protective. The secrets behind every aspect of Constance's life were locked away in a vault of memories she swore never to open, no matter what the consequences would be.

The day wore on as usual, with not even a disturbance from Frank, the gardener, who sometimes turned up to tend the flowerbeds. Seven o'clock approached faster than Constance would have liked it to and before she knew it, she had wrapped a travelling cloak around her head and folded her arms, disappearing into nothingness. The Pondweed was a small, old building with the smell of beer and the sound of drunkenness emanating from inside. As Constance materialised into the snow outside the building, she let out a sigh of despair. How long before she could make her excuses and leave? She feared the answer was not one she would like to hear, and braced herself before walking into the chaos.

'Ah Constance, right on time,' remarked Amelia who had already claimed a table with four chairs. Miss Hardbroom was dismayed at how anyone could think she would be anything less than punctual, as it was an attribute she had prided herself on since childhood. She took the place next to Miss Cackle whilst subtly distancing herself from the table, something which did not go completely unnoticed.

'How has your holiday been, Constance?'

'Not too bad headmistress. I have completed a paper on the magical properties of pondweed when collected at the winter solstice and have brewed fresh stocks of all 1,246 potions in the laboratory.' Although this was exactly the answer the headmistress had expected, it still pained her to think of her deputy alone in the castle, brewing potions in silence and working during a time meant for relaxation and calm.

At that point, Miss Drill and Miss Bat entered the pub to break what had been a very awkward silence.

'Ah Davina, Imogen, what can I get you to drink?' asked Miss Cackle brightly.

'Red wine for me Amelia,' replied Imogen, sitting across from the headmistress.

'Same for me Miss Cackle!' exclaimed Davina excitedly looking as though she could burst into song at any moment.

'Constance?'

'I am fine thank you Miss Cackle,' Miss Hardbroom said sternly. She refused to drink anywhere other than in her own private quarters.

It did not take long for the inevitable divide to form. Davina ended up as usual on the dance floor, writhing and gyrating to what Constance considered to be pointless noise. Miss Drill and Miss Cackle were sitting on stools at the bar, watching their colleague with amusement and chatting casually. Miss Hardbroom had not moved an inch and was becoming very disillusioned with the whole situation, though only an hour had passed. And then, from nowhere, her life changed.

'Sorry, do you mind if I sit here?' The deep, soothing voice of a stranger startled Miss Hardbroom and she looked up to see a man, no more than 35 years of age, with kind brown eyes and short dark hair looking at her.

'I suppose,' she said grudgingly, not comfortable with the prospect of sharing her table with someone so foreign to her.

'Are you Constance Hardbroom, by any chance?' he asked gingerly, sensing she was in no mood to be questioned.

'Yes, what of it?' she snapped predictably.

'It's just that I read your paper on pondweed the other day, the one published in _Potent Potions_ and I have to say it is one of the best I have ever had the pleasure to read.' The compliment would usually have gone unnoticed by Constance, who preferred to avoid critique on her work whether positive or not so; however, there was something about this man which made her cheeks redden ever so slightly as he appreciated her work.

'I'm Professor William Johnson of Cambridge University and I'm just in the village for a few months leading a few seminars and possibly going to the academy to give a lecture.' He proceeded to tell her a bit about his work with unusual remedies and herbs which were usually considered to be useless where potions were concerned. Constance listened with interest, but it only took a simple feeling to bring her defences back up around her. Was it his eyes? The way they bore deep into her soul, yet without being intrusive. It was like they forced her to trust him, to let him in without her having to say a single word. In that moment, she panicked and realised it was time for her to leave.

'Well Professor Johnson, it has been good to meet you but I best be off; I have lots of work to do.' Perhaps it was the flutter of the heart she didn't know she had which made her pull away and leave, but she convinced herself that she needed to return to the castle for work.

'Please, call me William. And Merry Christmas, Miss Hardbroom; I hope our paths may cross again.' It was the briefest of moments as she stood to leave, but she felt her hand brush slightly against his. Nothing planned, not even a gesture of farewell or an accidental touch, but a shiver ran down her spine. Of course, you could not tell from looking that she had sensed anything between them, but as she left without bidding goodbye to her colleagues she felt his eyes watch her leave the building.

Back in her room, Constance tried to pretend to herself that nothing had happened; well, nothing had. More importantly she tried to deny that she had felt anything as she had risen to leave and even managed to convince herself that it had been an imposition to meet such a man in a setting such as they had. Pouring herself a large glass of wine, Constance allowed herself a solitary moment of weakness. As the mixture touched her lips and slid down her throat, she felt the familiar numbing sensation that comforted her after a stressful day. Changing into the deep purple silk pajamas she wore every night, she poured herself another glass, angry that she had let her guard down in front of a stranger even if he did not know she had. Lying on her bed staring at the ceiling, she knew that the nightmares would revisit her again tonight, and a sore headache would follow on the depressing sentiment of Christmas morning.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – A New Year**

A week passed with little different occurring at Cackle's Academy. Constance had apologised to Miss Cackle for her unprecedented departure, giving the excuse of not feeling well. The headmistress had not, however, believed her and in return Constance had been forced to agree that she would return to see in the New Year at that same pub in one week. As the days passed her by, she would love to have claimed that she had not given Professor Johnson a second thought. Every time he crossed her mind she was furious at herself, as though it was somehow immoral to even remember their conversation. It was hard for the mind not to wander whilst relabeling potion stocks or updating student records, for as much as Miss Hardbroom relished the work it was monotonously dull.

The hills outside the castle window were immersed in snow, despite the fact that none had fallen in days. Taking a walk, Constance revelled in the harsh feeling as the air stabbed against her face and when she reached the frozen lake on the other side of the hill she stopped and took a book from her bag, clearing a space on a group of rocks for her to sit. Such silence surrounded her that she felt so wonderfully alone. Never having craved the attention others thrived on, she worked best alone and despised the feeling of being watched over like an incompetent child.

As she finished the book, her mind wandered once more. She remembered his eyes; what was it about them that had forced her to trust him from the moment they crossed paths? She wanted to be punished for lingering over this stranger, like a reprimanded child, but she did not know why. Her thoughts were more quizzical than impure and she was sure that she felt nothing for him. It was, perhaps, the memories he brought back that she wished to banish. From a young age, Constance Hardbroom had been normal; brilliant and gifted, but no different from the other children she knew. When everything changed, though she could not recall specifically when, the young woman she had been disappeared. Since that moment, she had never been able to fully trust or open up to another person. Not even Amelia.

She recalled their first meeting almost 20 years previously. She had applied for the job of potions mistress the week before her graduation from Broomhead's Elite Witch Training College, eager to pass on the knowledge she had learnt. But even then she had not been honest. Even when she had stumbled all too soon after across the headmistress' path, needing help she had never since asked for in reparations, she had not been able to impart the truth. One day, she always said. One day I will tell her what happened, but not a moment sooner.

New Year's Eve came far too quickly for Constance's liking. She took her cloak from the peg beside her door and chose to walk down to the village rather than appear by magic. Fireworks could already be heard erupting in the sky from distant towns already beginning their celebrations, but they were something Miss Hardbroom had never been able to stand. Walking into the pub again, it was packed full of people, shouting and bawling as though about to start a fight. She walked over to where her colleagues were seated at the bar, forcing herself to deny her natural instinct to run.

'Ah, Constance, good to see you again,' Miss Cackle half-shouted above the din. 'Can I get you a drink?' She was about to start another long, drawn out explanation concerning her disliking of drinking in public, when she saw him. From the corner of her eye, she saw Professor Johnson sitting down with a group of men, all clad in smart business-like suits.

'Red wine, I think Miss Cackle,' she said, before sitting uncomfortably on the stool next to the headmistress. Even Miss Cackle was taken aback by this unusual mannerism, but she knew better than to question her friend.

The wine worked its simplistic magic, numbing Constance's senses and allowing her to block out the complexities of everyday life. All she knew how to talk about with Miss Cackle was work, but she allowed Amelia to lecture her on her own need for a holiday. She wasn't paying much attention, which was not like her but her thoughts were as confused as Miss Bat, who was being taught rather poorly how to play darts by Miss Drill.

'Are you even listening to me Constance?' Amelia asked hopelessly, her smile warm and comforting.

'Yes, of course headmistress,' came Constance's instinctive reply. It was not entirely truthful.

'I have known you for almost 20 years Constance; is it so ridiculous that you should call me Amelia?'

Holding back another lecture on respect and conduct, Miss Hardbroom only nodded curtly and turned back to the third glass of wine she had been cradling for twenty minutes.

Midnight was only minutes away, but Miss Hardbroom thought it was best just to leave. Miss Cackle had started a conversation with a wizard training in the art of transdogrification, and a friendly argument had begun between Imogen and Davina as to who was better at the game only the non-witch PE teacher understood. Taking her chances once more, she slipped through the crowd towards the door. Pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders as she ventured into the open air, Constance could hear the rowdy members of the pub begin to count down to a new year. She did not expect much from another 12 months other than the same thing she experienced daily, but as the final few seconds of the year wore on, and she turned to walk back to the castle, a hand gentle closed around her wrist.

It did not take a genius to work out who the hand belonged to. Turning to Professor Johnson, Constance opened her mouth to begin an excuse of goodbye. Without warning, however, the words she had practised in her head evaded her and she simply stared into the eyes she had dreamed of for so long. He didn't say a word, did not utter a syllable but as he cautiously placed a hand on Miss Hardbroom's waist, her instincts told her to push him to the ground, to force him away magically and make him suffer. But she couldn't do it. Her mind told her this was wrong, that it was improper and a sign of her weakness, but all she wanted to do was let him in, let him be close to her for just a second. And then, after what seemed like hours, his lips met with hers. Cheers of 'happy New Year' were silenced to her as she felt their souls meet on the road in front of the pub with fireworks exploding above them. It was not idyllic, but the moment she wanted to last forever was perfect to her. She knew nothing much about him other than his name, vocation and where he lived in Cambridge; but as his lips so softly caressed hers, it felt as though they were lovers who had known each other for years.

She didn't know how long they stood there but as they parted, a wave of horror and shock ran down her spine. He seemed to know her so well, though having met her only once before, as he knew what she would do next. Releasing her from him, he watched as she disappeared in front of him, the face he had fallen for wrought with a fear few knew she was capable of. He would see her again, of that he was certain, but he had to think as she thought; otherwise she would push him away as she had tried to before and he would never see her again.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review! Coming up is the continuing story of Constance and William... getting a bit more, well you will find out :P<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Regrets**

Materialising at the entrance to the staff quarters back at Cackle's, Miss Hardbroom tried to compose herself. Her mind was swimming in a daze of thought and emotions that she didn't know she had. Fumbling with the keys that were attached to her dress, Constance breathed deeply and obsessively wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and rubbing her throbbing left temple. How could she be so stupid? She had trained herself to forget him and then...and then this.

Back in the comfort of her own room, Constance showered for forty minutes, as though trying to purge herself of him completely. No matter how hard she tried, she could steal smell his aftershave lingering at the nape of her neck and it disgusted her. As she dressed in her purple silk pajamas, a tiny voice in the back of her mind that had been silenced for two decades asked her, _why not stop denying your feelings for a second? You could be happy..._

'No,' she replied aloud. It wasn't her; it was against everything she had ever stood for and if the girls found out...her reputation would be in tatters with her career tumbling before her.

_Stop being so melodramatic, you only fell..._

She couldn't allow herself to think like that. Lying down in her bed, she stared through the open window, her mind lost and confused. She was the ice queen, the woman who felt nothing for anybody and never even smiled. She was the one people feared but respected, the powerful witch with lightening at her fingertips. Why her? Why now? She knew that sleep was not going to come to her, so she simply lay and berated herself for her stupidity.

It was one day before the beginning of a new term at the academy. All of the teachers had returned to their quarters, preparing lesson plans and term objectives as they always did before the school commenced. Constance, of course, had finished these menial tasks weeks ago but felt it necessary to go over everything, from the arrangements of the opening assembly to her first potions lesson with the second years the next morning. The ingredients for the term had been collected and catalogued, ready to be used by the students at the snap of her fingers. She went back to her room simply to search for a book on advanced potion making to check everything, although she was sure it was correct, when she saw a clean sheet of paper had been tucked under her door.

Snatching it from the ground, she read the words scrawled across the page in a heartbeat, but forced herself to read them numerous times so that she could fully understand them.

_Constance,_

_Meet me under the old oak tree at 10pm_

Although there was no signature, she put his face to the words he wrote with ease and her heart skipped a beat. She had resolved never to speak to this man again, yet why was her chest tightening at the thought of seeing him? She didn't like how he made her feel, she couldn't explain it. There weren't words for it and she despised this fact. And how dare he call her Constance! She decided to go, if only to set the record straight; anyway, that is what she told herself.

Ten to ten: Miss Cackle was in her office going through the paperwork she had put off until the last minute. Miss Bat had retired to the cupboard for the evening and Miss Drill was fast asleep or at least silent in her room. Feeling uncomfortably like a misbehaving school child, Constance snuck from her room in silence, leaving her cat Morgana purring softly on her bed. She began the walk to the infamous oak tree, standing tall on the edge of the forest, not wanting to materialise and stumble pathetically in the darkness.

Punctual as ever, Miss Hardbroom resolved to wait only one minute, already regretting her decision and wondering why on Earth she was there in the first place.

'Hello,' whispered a voice calmly from behind her. She turned, the anger already beginning to mount at his insolence.

'Now see here Professor Johnson,' she began.

'William, please,' he interjected. Scoffing, Constance continued.

'William, the other night was a mistake on my part. It is not something I normally do and under the influence of alcohol it is something I have been regretting ever since.'

'Really?' Such a simple question with the answer already secure in his mind.

'I am not the sort of person to go around fraternising with total strangers. I came here to set the record straight so that we will be able to work together if you come to the school.' Even in the darkness she could make out his smile. It frustrated her to know that he was not listening to a word she was saying.

'That's not why you came. You can tell me that until you are blue in the face but you had to see me,' William said warmly.

'I think not! I am hardly stricken by foolish desire such that I cannot keep away,' she defended, the barrier going up to separate her from him.

'You want to know why; why you kissed me that night.'

'You kissed me!'

'See! You will defend your actions until the day you die but no-one else is here, Constance. There's no need to hide from the truth here.' Her argument was weak against his well thought-out speech, and she found it harder to fight back. She sensed him moving towards her and she stepped back, wanting to keep a safe distance. Why could she not avert her gaze? What was he doing to her?

'Professor Johnson, I came here to explain myself and be on my way. The new term begins tomorrow and I still have a lot of work to get through,' she lied, avoiding his gaze.

'Immersing yourself in work as always. I had heard you were difficult, Constance, but not so obsessed. Can you not allow yourself two minutes of freedom? Not a few moments without worrying about work?'

'I have a job to do,' she replied simply, stepping back again. This time, however, she caught her foot on one of the tree's roots and began to topple backwards. Somehow, in some impossible way, William stooped just in time to catch her. Helping her to stand once more, William backed off to give Constance her space. Felling foolish, she brushed leaves from her dress and made to leave.

'Please, wait!' He called after her and, against her better judgement, she turned back to him.

'I wouldn't know how,' she admitted honestly. It was the truth.

'What?'

'I wouldn't know where to begin. All I have ever known is work and my career and education, I haven't even thought about it in years.' William saw, for only the second time, a glimpse of the woman beneath the barrier. Her eyes were sincere, showing years of neglect and the emotionless life she forced herself to lead.

'Just let go,' he whispered as he took her in his arms once more. She let him hold her waist, and moved her arms around his, letting her instincts take hold. Her lips quivered as she ignored her subconscious and gave in to her desires. She kissed him like she hadn't done anyone in so many years, everything becoming clear in her head. She moved a hand to brush his soft brown hair and let him kiss her neck as she breathed deeply, taking in the subtle scent of the man before her. She wanted more than anything to run away with him, to do something radical and impulsive, but she knew it couldn't be so. But for one night at least, they could be together.

Without thinking, she transported them back to her room. He seemed startled at first and she began to apologise, but as their lips met again he silenced her. Realising what was about to take place, Constance pulled away.

'What is it?' He asked tenderly, stroking her cheek.

'I...I don't know if I can. There are things, things I can't tell you yet; things from my past I can't explain.' Her voice was so raw and true, specked with fear and panic. He could feel her self-consciousness from across the room as she turned away from him. He came from behind, wrapping his hands around her waist in comfort.

'You don't have to tell me, I understand. Can't you just forget the past? For one night?' He didn't know what he was asking, but Constance thought it best to show him. Turning back, she lightly kissed him and moved into William, inviting him to make the first move. He undid the tight bun on the top of her head, allowing her wavy brown hair to cascade down her back. She was so beautiful and she didn't even know it. Her fingers trembled as she undid the top button of her dress, the dress which concealed so much, and she was unsure if she could let him see why she was who she was. Biting her lip, she undid all of the buttons and he carefully removed the dress from her shoulders, but he wasn't quite prepared for what lay beneath.

He stood back for a moment, his eyes struck with horror and, she despised to see, pity. She had to hold back tears for the first time in longer than she could remember, not able to look at him or herself. She has exposed more than just her body to him, but her soul as well. The pale white skin was covered in scars. Almost every inch of her arms were marred by thick white lines, from her wrists to her neck and across her stomach and legs. He had so many questions, but he had promised. He had promised her that he would leave this conversation for another day. He took her face in his hands, looking deep into the brown eyes now swimming with long overdue tears, and he whispered 'you are the most beautiful woman in the world,' as he collapsed onto the bed with her. She wouldn't have told him that she didn't believe him but it was true that she did not.

Constance could not believe for a second what was happening. They didn't speak, as their actions spoke louder than words. They came together like two halves of a whole, completing each other and moving together. He was kind and gentle, as she let him take control and opened up to his world. It had been so long since she had felt happiness, pleasure, that it scared her at first. Having someone else inside her was the strangest of feelings, yet the best release. For one night, she was no longer Constance Hardbroom, deputy headmistress and feared potions teacher. For that one night she let go as he had asked and became somebody else. As the first specs of golden sunlight emerged over the horizon, the trees seemingly on fire as the orange glow invaded the sky, Constance slept next to someone she knew would be there for her, even if she never told anyone. Even if she kept him a secret for her entire life, she knew he would be there.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – New Beginnings**

As the morning engulfed the castle, Miss Hardbroom awoke to the soft purr of her cat. Waking up, she looked across the bed to see no-one there but Morgana, and she would have thought it all a dream had she not been lying exposed in her bed. Self consciously, she rose to shower and saw another note on her desk.

_I hadn't the heart to wake you,_

_I know I will see you again soon_

_Never forget who you are, not who you are meant to be_

_W x_

Signed with a kiss, thought Constance, and she indulged in the first flicker of a smile since her adolescence before returning to the woman she had been the day before; cold, hard and impenetrable.

Mildred Hubble landed her broomstick shakily in the courtyard of the academy. Her flight had been impaired by the weighted schoolbag containing, amongst other things, a fully grown cat. She was, as usual, on the brink of being very late as the last of the fourth years were putting their brooms in the broom shed. Seeing Maud, Mildred ran to catch up with her.

'How was your holiday Millie?' Maud asked upon seeing her closest friend.

'Alright I suppose, but I didn't get as much work done as HB expects me to. My parents insisted we went on holiday. It was very relaxing though.' They continued their chat as they crossed the courtyard, and Mildred saw Miss Hardbroom join Miss Cackle at the entrance to the school just as the last few stragglers were hurried along. This was odd, thought Mildred; HB had never been late in her life. Shrugging it off, however, she joined her other friends and went into the hall for assembly.

'Sorry Miss Cackle,' apologised Miss Hardbroom as she finally caught up more than an hour later than she usually would have been. She was brimming with guilt and shame, trying to avoid the headmistress' gaze as she began a web of lies she could sense would spiral.

'There was a minor emergency in the potions lab; it couldn't wait.'

'No need to apologise, as long as everything is under control?'

'Yes headmistress,' Constance replied sheepishly. She was trying not to give away how different she felt, but had never been much of an actress. _Pull yourself together, Constance_ she warned herself. If she walked around in a daydream for the rest of the term the girls would learn very little indeed.

'Has anyone woken Miss Bat from her cupboard slumber?' asked Miss Cackle.

'I believe Miss Drill saw to it earlier,' replied Miss Hardbroom.

'Good, then we are ready to start a new term. Shall we?' The headmistress beckoned her deputy in before her with a warm smile. She could see right through Constance's act, though she guessed her deputy had not caught on to this fact. Amelia could sense that it was not a good idea to press her colleague, for fear of a lecture on private matters and the consequences which would befall girls if Constance was in a foul mood.

'Right then class, there are a number of things to address before the lesson commences. There is only one more month until you are to take the last set of exams before the ones which matter. I hope that you have been working hard over the winter break rather than letting your time go to waste,' Mildred shuffled uneasily in her seat, 'and are ready to begin the perfection and revision of the standard spells, potions and methodology you will need to have a firm grasp on. I require you all to make a potion which will allow the drinker to levitate a few feet in the air, but as you will remember without getting the balance perfectly right the potion can cause anarchy and chaos. You may begin.' Miss Hardbroom had directed the last sentence directly at Mildred, who had not even been allowed to try her potion when she had first made it due to the fact that it was bubbling uncontrollably and everything it touched seemed to turn to ash. It had not been one of Mildred's mores successful potions.

The girls got out their potions books, but many jumped as they were vanished from their hands.

'I pity any girl who thinks they will be able to take a textbook into the exam,' Miss Hardbroom said calmly, and with another flick of her right hand the books reappeared in neat piles on her desk at the front of the classroom.

Trying her best to remember the precise ingredients involved, Mildred began to chop up some lemongrass shoots and looked across at Maud who, thankfully, was doing the same.

'Is it just me, or is HB a little...' whispered Mildred, trying not to draw attention to herself.

'I know what you mean. She wasn't in the courtyard before we arrived this morning, and someone said she screamed for ten minutes at a first year who had forgotten their cat. Miss Cackle had to send the poor girl to the sickroom to calm down.'

'Seems like the same HB to me,' remarked Enid. 'She's always been, you know, a cow.'

'ENID!' hissed Maud, adamant not to get in trouble on her first day back from the holidays.

'I think we should just keep an eye out; it's best to know where you stand at all times with HB!' Mildred exclaimed a little too loudly, causing Miss Hardbroom to shoot her an icy glare. Returning to her potion, Mildred prayed to anyone that the inevitable catastrophe would not cause too much damage.

'Time's up! Sip your potions, girls,' stated Miss Hardbroom, rising from her chair and folding her arms, watching everyone's efforts with scrutiny. Most of the girls had managed to make an acceptable potion and had risen a few feet off the floor. Ethel hovered perfectly for a minute before landing gracefully, receiving a nod of approval from her teacher. Mildred was the last to sip her potion and took rather too much from the spoon.

'Oh crumbs,' she muttered, wondering what would happen. Her potion hadn't shimmered with the same pearly white glow that came from her friends' cauldrons, but was murky and tinged with brown. Nothing happened for a while, which to Mildred was better than disaster. Unfortunately, as she let out a sigh of relief, she felt the classroom begin to rumble beneath her feet and knew it was her fault.

'What on Earth...' pondered Miss Hardbroom as she gripped the table as the room shook. Mildred's cheeks were beginning to glow bright red and Miss Hardbroom knew she had to act quickly. Extending the fingers of her right hand, she muttered inaudibly a containment spell for the effects of the potion and held out her left hand, as she commanded a potion from her shelf into her stretched fingers.

'Drink this,' she said, handing the potion to Mildred who was terrified of what she had caused. Closing her eyes, Miss Hardbroom raised her arms in the air and felt magic flow through her fingertips. She did not need the inconvenience of an incantation to distract her and then, the room stood still.

'What was that miss?' asked Ethel, hoping that Mildred would have already done enough to be in a month of detentions.

'That, was a rather overly enthusiastic levitation potion with a kick of henbane, was it Mildred?'

Mildred nodded glumly, staring at the floor. She should have known about the henbane, it was one of the herbs she thought she had revised over the holidays, evidently with little success.

'Class dismissed, Mildred can you come here for a moment?' Miss Hardbroom's voice was unreadable; Mildred couldn't tell if her tutor was angry or confused. When the others had left, she sat at her desk and eyed Mildred over the growing pile of papers littering the surface.

'There isn't need to look quite so scared, Mildred,' Miss Hardbroom said calmly. Mildred tried not to express her confusion, though with little success.

'For once, the disaster you very nearly caused today was not something due to your complete lack of skill. I think you will agree that the potion did not go to plan, but having watched you make it, well, it wasn't half bad.' Mildred couldn't believe her luck. She had been winging it for most of the lesson, but she wasn't about to confess this to her teacher.

'Unfortunately for you, one too many ingredients combined with an overly generous portion resulted in the tremor in this classroom and luckily, the damage was avoided. I suggest that you revise this potion before your next potions class, Mildred, but do not be completely disheartened; it could have been worse. Now, get your book and run along.'

Mildred ran faster than she had in a long time to catch up with her friends on the way to chanting.

'OK, either HB has gone mad or I am sleeping, because that has to have been a dream,' Mildred exclaimed.

'What happened?' asked Maud.

'She told me that I had just made a minor mistake and shouldn't be put off. I think, though I can't be sure, that she said it wasn't bad.'

'But what did she give you, for nearly blowing up the lab again?' inquired Enid.

'Nothing! No lines, no detention, just the task of revising the potion. Weird...' Mildred thought.

'We should definitely watch HB from now on though, this is most unusual!' laughed Ruby.

'Maybe someone whacked her over the head during the holidays?' suggested Enid.

'Or she was driven insane by the prospect of two weeks without anyone to punish,' joked Maud.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 – Short-lived bliss**

The holidays soon became a distant memory and, after the unusual moments surrounding the first day back, things were soon back to normal at the academy. Mildred had all but forgotten about Miss Hardbroom's behaviour, more so after she was given 500 lines on 'I will not use my cauldron as a dumping pot for random ingredients' and two detentions following an incident involving a broom flying lesson, a hungry cat and the windows of the potions laboratory.

Days after the term had begun, Miss Hardbroom had reluctantly gone to Miss Cackle's office to begin what she saw as a web of deceit. She despised lying, especially when it was her own conscience that had to bear the grudge, but Amelia couldn't understand, not yet. Knocking hard twice on the door, Constance waited for the obligatory 'enter' before making her way into the headmistress' study.

'Ah, Constance, what can I do for you?'

'Miss Cackle, I have come to inform you that I will no longer be able to be on duty on Thursday nights or Saturday mornings. I have been offered a position lecturing young witches about some of the more unusual potions before they embark on the extensive course at witch training college, but I thought to ask if this was acceptable beforehand.' She had rehearsed this speech many times in her mind, filling in the gaps to any question Amelia could possibly ask.

'Where are these lectures to take place?'

'In the neighbouring village of Cotsworthy, so I will be on hand in case of an emergency at the school.' Constance looked into Miss Cackle's eyes, seeing no indication that she was not trusted; that made it, if possible, even worse for her to bear.

'That is perfectly alright with me Constance. I am glad you are putting your skills to good use and I am sure we can rearrange the timetabling so that you will be free on these required days.'

'Thank you, headmistress,' replied Constance who turned and marched out of the room. Miss Cackle chuckled to herself whilst pouring a cup of tea. Although a very commendable liar, she had known Constance too long not to sense when something was out of place. It was too easy just to let her deputy get on, but she felt the air of amusement hit her at the thought of watching over Constance to see where the trail led.

Rising, as usual, before the break of day, Constance changed into her usual black dress, running through a list of tasks for the day ahead. She paused at the dressing table, where she would usually spend almost half an hour winding her hair into the neatest bun on the top of her head. One of the things she despised about Saturdays was her newfound self-conscious nature concerning her appearance. It was not as if it really mattered what she looked like, but she couldn't help pausing to consider an alternative approach to her long, dark hair. Reluctantly, she brushed her hair until it was smooth and tied it into one long ponytail that reached down her back. Without the containment of a bun, it was curled and immediately she dismissed the notion, deciding simply to leave it down and hope that none of the girls would see her fussing.

Although she was off duty all day, Constance still felt the need to patrol the corridors as the first weak beams of golden sunlight broke through the barrier of night and, satisfied that all of the girls were asleep, she returned to her room. Taking her broom from its place in the back of her wardrobe, she felt the same rush which she did before every meeting with William. He managed to control her mind without even trying; something she did not feel at all comfortable with. It had been three weeks since she had asked Miss Cackle for the time off, and she had mentioned nothing more of it. If she was suspicious then she wasn't letting on, but Constance knew better than to presume she could let her guard down. She paced her room for another half an hour, wondering as ever where the barrier between being too early or too late lay for the meeting.

After some deliberation, she strode into the courtyard and quickly mounted her broom; she was exposed to any girl looking from her window and asking unnecessary questions as long as she was preparing within the grounds. She felt the familiar pleasure of the breeze rushing through her as her broom lifted off and she was soon gliding elegantly through the amber skies. Cotsworthy was not a place she had visited before the start of this term, but due to its solitude it was the perfect meeting place. There was a tearoom which opened at 6am and never had more than a few people in where she and William usually met. Constance had forbidden him to escort her back to the castle as she could see how it would look and, despite the freedom she felt at having a secret tucked away, her rules were to be followed without discussion, William knew. It almost scared her how much he seemed to know; not details of her life, for no-one knew any more than what Constance had told them, but how she acted. He knew not to bring flowers as they were, to her, a waste of a bud which could have fulfilled its life elsewhere and she never indulged in chocolates or much food at all in fact. He always knew the right thing to say and it comforted Constance to know that she was understood by someone.

Landing silently outside the small, cottage-like building the sun had raised high into the sky and the first people in the village were stirring to begin their daily routine. Constance entered the shop, with a small bell announcing her presence, and she rested her broom against the wall, hanging her cloak on a peg. He was already there, as he always was, and a warm smile spread across his face at the sight of her. She sat opposite him, the corners of her mouth curling upwards for a moment but quickly returning to their allotted place.

'Early as usual,' she remarked.

'You wouldn't stand for anything less,' he laughed, ordering them some tea which, with a flick of the waitress' hand, materialised before them along with a large plate of biscuits.

'Something is bothering you,' William told her, pouring out the tea. 'Do you want to talk about it?'

'There is nothing...'

'See, I would believe that if it was anyone else; however it seems you are not the most capable of liars Miss Hardbroom.' She thought of beginning a well constructed argument with him, as she knew she would be able to, but in doing something she would never have done before the Christmas break, she sighed and leaned back in her chair.

'I suppose I'm just not used to lying to Miss Cackle like this. Oh I know what your opinion is on the subject, William,' she said dismissively, having heard a hundred times how she should tell her headmistress everything.

'But how do you start that conversation, hmm? Oh, by the way headmistress, I am not lecturing students at the weekend but sneaking off to see a mystery man I met after New Year, I hope this is of no inconvenience!' His laugh was rich and something she loved about him, having never been able to laugh without a care herself.

'Well if not, then do not worry Constance. We are breaking no laws, we have made it near impossible to be discovered by students or teachers and it would be simpler just for a morning to forget about being deputy headmistress and just be Constance Hardbroom.' Her hand was resting on the table and he placed his gently on hers, careful not to invade her fierce rules of personal space. She was thinking as he feared and resisted the urge to pull away, actually finding his presence comforting.

'There's something else,' he remarked cleverly, taking his tea in both hands and holding it to his chest.

'How...' she began to question his impossible knowledge, but thought better of it.

'Well it really is nothing. Just...nothing.' She turned her head to stare distantly out of the window. William could sense that something had hurt her, something she didn't want to admit because of the unyielding pride she held dear.

'If I am not here to listen, then what am I here for?' he said gently. He saw the sadness in her eyes; a simple flash among the dark brown but it was definitely there.

'It really is a trivial matter, something I should be used to in my profession. It was just something that one of the, well a group of girls said when they thought I wasn't listening.' Although William could sense where this conversation was heading, he was unsure how to respond so as not to push her away. There was something bothering her that had never bothered her before, and it was a new experience to her.

'I had given them each 500 lines: _I must not forego my learning of the art of potions in aid of pointless electronic devices,_ after I caught them playing a game in my lesson and vanished as I do. But, as you know, I have a knack for lingering a little longer than you'd expect and... well they said I was a bitch and that they wished I were dead so they could get some peace.' William could sense that Constance had been trying not to let him see how much these words had meant to her, avoiding his gaze and continuing to stare out the window at nothing in particular.

'That's...horrible,' he admitted. He knew of her reputation as a teacher who stood for no nonsense and was strict to her pupils, but no-one deserved to hear that about themselves.

'It doesn't matter, it really is just trivial. I'm a teacher for Merlin's sake and one not popular with the class as it is.' Constance tried to pick up her tea but was frustrated to find that her hands were shaking.

'Constance, look at me,' William asked her seriously. She obliged, still trying to hide her true feelings from him as he took her hands in his across the table.

'You are an amazing woman and your pupils, well they are just children. They don't know you like I do. They are wrong about you,' he said reassuringly.

'But are they? I mean most girls have said it over the years, does that mean they are all wrong?' her voice would never crack as many others' would have at this moment but her tone was uneasy.

'Listen to what I am saying, Constance; you are not the sort of person who deserves to be treated like that, no-one does. I know it is impossible to take no notice but all I can say is that you are more important to me than you will ever know. I love you, Constance Hardbroom.' At the sound of the word she had wanted to hear for a month, since she had first set eyes on William Johnson, her eyes focused on his with the pinpoint accuracy of a teacher. She wanted more than anything to say it back, but the words wouldn't come. Breathing slowly, her heart pounding in her chest, she managed to reply,

'I...I love you too.' It was something he thought he would never hear and at that moment he knew she was the one. Abandoning their tea, they made their way quietly outside to the privacy of the edge of the forest, and their lips met as the tender kiss of two lovers entwined in happiness. His hand sought her waist and she pulled him closer, wanting to feel him near her. They rarely found the time to indulge in moments of passion and as he kissed the nape of her neck she closed her eyes and found herself in the only place in the world she wanted to be.

'Here?' was all she could manage as she resisted the urge to groan in pleasure. Before he could muster a reply, not wanting to stay away from her longer than he had to even to speak, she conjured a blanket behind a maple tree and they fell in the leaves together, neither able resist the other's touch.

'I am sorry William but I have to go,' Constance said softly. They had been lying in the shade of the tree for half an hour, now clothed but with his arms still wrapped around her to keep her close to him. He sighed but knew not to argue.

'I have a surprise for you,' William whispered in her ear. 'On Thursday, I persuaded that Cosie woman that I needed to use her premises for work. We have the whole place to ourselves.'

'Cosie's? That is rather close to the school, don't you think?' He had caught her at the best time, as he voice was more concerned than completely dismissive.

'If we meet at 10, all of the girls will be fast asleep and Mrs. Cosie long since retired to her home. There shouldn't be a problem,' he assured her, kissing her cheek as she tried to release herself from his grasp.

'Oh alright I suppose I may as well take a risk; but you have to let me go now.' Her voice was stern with a hint of humour and he obediently released her, allowing her to stand. Feeling her hair with her hands, she realised how obviously out of sorts she looked. It was trivial but quite frankly she didn't care as she flexed her fingers and altered her appearance so that her hair wound into its trademark bun and her clothes became unruffled and pristine.

'Do I get no token of farewell?' she invited and he stood next to her, kissing her as though they were to be parted for weeks rather than days. Picking up her cloak and broom from the floor, she vanished into thin air without warning, leaving William smiling like a lovesick puppy and feeling not too dissimilar.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you for my first ever review! As promised next chapter up quickly, but there is a warning with this one. As the title suggests, this is not a fluffy chapter and there are concepts in the final paragraphs that are rather graphic. I didn't know whether to put this chapter in or make it a bit less shocking, but it makes the rest of the plotline make sense.**

**Thanks for reading**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7 – The death of dreams<strong>

The days dragged on unbearably slowly as Miss Hardbroom waited for Thursday to arrive. It seemed as though the students had sensed her happiness, though she was careful to keep up her normal demeanour during school hours, for they all seemed more badly behaved and less enthusiastic than ever before. As she marched into the staffroom, the other teachers felt the menacing vibe emanating from their colleague and watched her go over to make a cup of tea, not daring to utter a single word.

'Really!' she muttered to herself, trying to control the anger which was causing her blood to boil.

'What is it Miss Hardbroom?' Miss Bat asked bravely, her eyes flitting between Constance and the stationary cupboard.

'The third years handed their homework in today, without one correct answer to the question I set and during the practical task three cauldrons blew up, four people were sent to the sickbay to be treated for minor burns and not one had managed to turn a frog invisible in an hour and a half! It is as though they are all trying to be incompetent,' she explained, her frustration clear in her tone. Having made the tea, she sat at the head of the table, as far away from the Miss Bat and Miss Drill as possible without being rude. Davina could have sworn a little steam was coming out of Miss Hardbroom's ears.

'I'm sure they didn't mean it,' started Miss Bat, but after Constance shot her a look that could have paralysed a butterfly mid-flight, she whimpered and grabbed a flower from the vase on the coffee table, storming into the stationary cupboard.

'Miss Hardbroom,' Miss Drill started.

'No, Miss Drill, for once it is not my fault that Davina has taken up residence in the cupboard. You cannot say that I attacked or even shouted at her this time.' Imogen decided against pursuing the matter, sensing that she would lose a fight against the deputy headmistress rather quickly and painfully. Leaving her tea untouched on the table, Miss Hardbroom rose from her seat and strode back out through the staffroom door and Miss Drill felt sorry for the girl bound to end up in her colleague's way.

Moments later, Miss Cackle came into the staffroom holding a small pink bag.

'Is something the matter with Constance?' she asked sitting across from Miss Drill and conjuring a plate for the cream cake which she removed from the bag.

'Does there need to be? Though I could swear her mood's been all over the place lately,' remarked Imogen pensively.

'One minute she gives a whole year detention and the next, she is complimenting the first years on their broomstick flying which I have to say is not the best,' added Miss Bat, opening the cupboard door a crack to be heard.

'Oh there is something different' said Miss Cackle knowingly, trying to stop a smile spreading across her face.

'You know something,' exclaimed Miss Bat, leaving the confines of the cupboard to join in the gossip.

'Oh alright I do,' replied Miss Cackle, on the verge of laughter, 'but I couldn't tell you if I wanted to; I shouldn't even know.'

'What did you find out?' enquired Imogen.

'Let's just say that Constance is not as inconspicuous as she thinks and a well-placed friend at a café sheds some very interesting light on the situation!' She wasn't proud of the fact that she had done some of her own investigation into the deputy's whereabouts when she claimed to be teaching elsewhere, but she did not appreciate being lied to. As soon as she had heard that Constance, of all people, was meeting with someone – a man nonetheless at a secret location, however, she had become more understanding. How could she ask Constance to give her the truth when she knew that her friend would not be comfortable with it herself? She had never been one for socialising at all let alone having relationships and she had been more than a little surprised at the revelation.

'Couldn't you even give us a hint?' wheedled Imogen, desperate to know.

'Normally I would, Imogen, but in this case I think it is better that nobody knows but I; for starters, I am not even supposed to know and I have a feeling that Constance would not be too happy if I shared it with the world.' Defeated, Imogen wished that for once Miss Hardbroom could be exposed as a real person, behind the perfect and impenetrable shell that she lived in. But one thing was for certain: Constance had a secret.

Thursday came as a blessing for Miss Hardbroom. The week had been the longest of her life and she wondered how she had coped at all. A glass of red wine or two always helped, but the fact was that she missed him. It pained her to admit that she could not go five minutes without thinking of him, but it was the truth. Retiring to her room at half past 8, she watched the clock tick slowly for the most difficult hour of her life before she started off under the cover of darkness. Not wanting to risk discovery, she disappeared from her room to re-emerge on the edge of the woods, avoiding the shameful walk from the castle which always made her feel guilty. The adrenalin, however, was taking over as she walked at a pace to Cosie's tearooms and her heart was beating like a drum in her chest. The night was silent and unfathomable, but Constance couldn't even stop as she usually would have done to check if anyone was around, as the thought that he was only moments away drove her onwards.

Arriving at the door, she stopped momentarily to catch her breath. The hills had tired her and she did not want to appear weak and flustered before William. Pushing open the doors, she gasped at the beauty which lay before her. One hundred candles at least lit the darkened room, with rose petals scattered across the floor. William had been pacing, waiting for her to arrive as she could tell next to a series of cushions laid out besides a meal and wine she could tell he had prepared himself. She wanted to cry, to hold him and run into his arms just to say how much she loved him; but no matter how hard she tried she could not bring herself to do this.

'William it's...'

'A bit rubbish, I know, but there wasn't much I could do with the space.'

'No, it's wonderful.' Her eyes met his and he knew that she meant it. They sat together at the centre of the room, his arm around her waist as they laughed and drank the night away, not a care in the world.

They laid back, Constance resting her head against William's chest and feeling every breath he took, thanking anyone who could listen that she was there with him.

'I'm going to tell Amelia,' she whispered and she felt him stir beneath her.

'Are you sure? I mean, you said...'

'I know what I said and, not for the first time it will surprise you to hear, I was wrong. I just don't know how to begin to tell her. I think she will understand why I was...economical with the truth, but as long as it doesn't affect my job why should I hide you?' Looking down at her, William knew that he loved her so much he couldn't bear to be apart from her. The lump in his pocket shifted uncomfortably as he wrapped both of his arms around her, his right hand untying the bun on the back of her head subconsciously. It was as though it was nudging him, encouraging him to ask the question that could change both of their lives forever.

'Oh!' Constance exclaimed, sitting bolt upright.

'What is it sweetheart?'

'I've just remembered something, oh Lord. I was supposed to set the fourth years a test tomorrow!'

'Can you not forget work for once? You don't need to be on duty 24/7,' William assured her, playing with a loose strand of her hair.

'Normally, I would say you were right,' she admitted sighing, 'but the fourth year exams are next week and they are bad enough at potions without their teacher forgetting to set them revision work. I am so sorry, I have to go.' She got to her feet and tied her hair back into its bun.

'Don't go,' he pleaded childishly, not sure if he could wait the extra two days to see her again.

'I really am sorry William. This was so beautiful; you won't ever know what it means to me.'

'Then promise me something,' he asked, taking her hands in his own.

'Promise me, you will come away with me during the half term break. We could go anywhere, do anything.'

'You know I can't promise that yet, but I promise you I will ask and try to make myself available.' Looking into her eyes he could tell that she was not lying to him.

'A whole week to ourselves,' William pictured and a smile spread across his face.

'Can I walk you back?' he asked, his protective nature not wanting to allow her to leave.

'I am perfectly capable of walking back myself; I have done it many times. Do you think I cannot protect myself?' she asked with a touch of humour colouring her tone.

'I am sure you can.' He smiled, taking her face in his hands and kissing her gently, wanting more than anything to take the ring from his pocket right there. No. It wasn't the right moment, not yet. He would just have to wait.

Leaving the cabin, Constance had never felt more alive. Her heart ached from having to leave William but she knew that she could persuade Amelia to give her time off; after all, she had never taken leave in her twenty years at Cackle's. Walking briskly through the trees, however, Constance got the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching her. Cosie's was out of sight now, and she was alone at the heart of the woods. Fear was not a word which featured in Miss Hardbroom's vocabulary, but unease was something she had learnt not to take lightly. She stopped, listening for any movement. Dismissing her concerns, she continued forwards, but only managed a few paces before hearing the unmistakeable sound of footsteps. She was for any attacker, her spell-casting fingers poised and ready. She turned to examine her surroundings, wondering whether to call out and challenge the person skulking menacingly in the shadows.

After waiting a moment, she decided to transport herself back to the castle, but found she was unable to. She put it down to fatigue at first, but realised the something was not right. A cold, gloved hand grabbed violently at her wrist from behind, causing her to stumble and gasp with surprise. Spinning around, the masked man let her go and watched with a despicable grin as she tried to cast a spell to contain him. Her fingers channelled the magic, but it was blocked and doubled back into her system, giving Constance a shock of a pain so fierce it felt as though for a second her body was on fire. A magical block had weakened her but worse, it had rendered her defenceless. Although reasonably strong, she would not be able to fight the large man now heading towards her and momentary panic set in. He sent a bolt of energy at her, which hit her in the chest. She felt her heart skip a beat and searing pain envelope her body, but she had to stay standing to fight.

He grabbed her wrists again, the grip unbelievably strong. She beat at his chest pathetically to no effect, but distracting him long enough to kick him in the shins, catching him off balance. His grip too strong, they stumbled and he fell down the side of the leafy hill where they had been standing, dragging her along until her head hit a tree and they stopped. Dazed and confused, she tried to stand, but she could not co-ordinate herself. Suddenly, he was looming over her once more. She pushed herself up, trying to at least sit straight but he sent a spell at her which she had never seen. Constance felt the energy white and hot form a deep gash in the side of her cheek and she tried her best not to cry out. She tried again in vain to stand, but the man laughed as he sent another wave at her, this time cutting into her stomach. She could feel warm blood beginning to soak her tattered dress and wondered why. Why had she walked home? Why her and why now? But little did she know that the worst was yet to come. Groaning, she slumped against the tree until she felt her throat tighten: a silencing spell. Fear coursed through her veins and her slow heart as she looked into his eyes, black and lifeless as a predator's. He cast another enchantment, binding her arms harshly behind her back and he knelt down next to her, a disgusting grin forcing its way across his face.

What he did next was more than too horrible to describe. He forced himself onto her, his mouth against hers in a way that made her want to die and his hands moving uninvited across her body. The horror and realisation of what was happening struck her all too late and she just wanted the release of death to take her. He ripped her dress and chuckled as he took away the pride and dignity Constance Hardbroom lived for, that made her who she was. He took pleasure in the fact that she closed her eyes in shame and that if he sent the energy he could conjure without a second's though through her body, she writhed and tried to scream in pain, though the words would never come. As dawn began to break, he rose from the ground, removing her bindings with the flick of his wrist. She was awake, he could tell by her breathing, and he was astounded that she had lasted this long without breaking into tears or falling into a blissful unconsciousness. As he leaned back close, she opened her eyes so that he could see she had not beaten her and felt a jolt of fresh pain as he took her arm in his and twisted, the bones snapping under his power. She wouldn't allow tears to form in her eyes as she knew that would give him more satisfaction. She could barely make out his face as he straightened to his full height; his features were hazy as his face swam before her eyes. Deciding that it was not wise to leave her there conscious until he was safely gone, the man raised both of his hands, magic building up at his fingertips, and he conjured a ball of energy which cracked and fizzled before him. A smirk, as he saw her eyes widen, and sent the raging ball straight at the fallen woman before him. She convulsed for almost a minute before letting the energy take her over, engulfing her and putting her painfully into a dreamless sleep. Knowing his job was done, the man disappeared and left Constance battered and alone as day broke above her.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey noble readers, I had another writing spree and here are two more chapters!**

**Thanks again to reviewers and as always more are very much welcomed! **

**All I will say is poor HB...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8 – Something Wrong<strong>

Mildred knew that something had to be wrong. Their potions lesson had been due to start twenty minutes previously and there had been no sign of Miss Hardbroom.

'Ruby,' Mildred whispered, 'was HB at breakfast this morning?'

'No, I don't remember seeing her. I haven't seen her all day in fact.'

'Do you think something's up Millie?' Maud asked gingerly.

'I know it isn't my place, but HB has never been late for a lesson. I just get the feeling that something's wrong is all...' Mildred admitted. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. There were one hundred reasons why HB could be late, all perfectly plausible, but somehow she didn't believe any of them.

'I'm going to find Miss Cackle, are you coming?' Mildred whispered to her friends, who all nodded and made to follow her out of the door.

'And where are you going Mildred Hubble?' Ethel questioned, standing up from her stool.

'To find Miss Cackle; HB has never been late before and I just want to know where she is.'

'You're not getting all of the credit for being the concerned one – I'm coming too!'

'Alright,' said Mildred, 'we'll all go. Then none of us can be told of for being in the wrong place.'

The shining sun blinded Miss Hardbroom as she tried to open her eyes. Everything ached and she felt the sensation of blood from her stomach soaking her dress. It took her several minutes to be able to fully open her eyes; long enough for the haunting memories of the previous night to return. She could quite easily have sat there all day crying, wishing it wasn't her and praying to a God she didn't truly believe in that it would be the last encounter with the attacker she would ever have to face. She tried to hoist herself into a sitting position against the tree, but had to bite her lip to stifle a scream as she felt her left arm crack from the pressure, the bone already broken and splintered. Using her one good arm, she managed to sit up and assess the damage that had been done. Her head was pounding from where she had hit the tree, with trickles of blood making their way down her cheeks and stinging the painful gash which covered one side of her face. Her chest felt weak even with the effort of breathing, as she recalled the bolts of energy which probably should have stopped her heart hours before; more worrying, however, was the dark stain covering her side. Her dress had not ripped where the energy had impacted, but she could feel the blood saturating the material around a considerable wound. The dress was tattered in many ways the long sleeves torn and frayed, the collar split and a large rip from her thigh to the hem reminding her more of the atrocities she had suffered. It was too hard to think about it but the memories would not fade or even be pushed to the back of her mind. She had to stand, to get herself back to the castle and into her room so that she could be spared the humiliation of explaining herself. Her legs were weak, and the first times she attempted to stand she fell painfully back to the floor; but she could not give in, she would not.

Mildred reluctantly led the fourth years to the entrance of the school, near to where Miss Cackle's office was. They had to understand exactly what they were going to say before they plunged into a meeting with the headmistress.

'So, what do we say?' asked Enid, opening with the question on everyone's lips.

'I think Mildred should speak,' admitted Maud nervously.

'That's fine, but what do I say?' pleaded Mildred, trying not to show her anxiety.

'Just say that Miss Hardbroom never turned up to potions this morning and you, we, were wondering if there was something else we should be doing,' tried Ruby.

'Right... 'said Mildred uncertainly and she was about to go and knock on the door when she stopped.

'What is it now Hubble?' asked Drusilla scathingly.

'Did you hear that?' Mildred replied.

'What?' questioned Drusilla impatiently.

'Shh!' warned Mildred, concentrating hard. 'There!' she exclaimed, and this time the others heard it. It wasn't quite a knock, but a thump on the door. Courageously, Mildred walked towards the door and opened it, not prepared for what she was about to see.

Miss Hardbroom looked as though she was dying, one arm propping her up against the granite doorframe and the other resting over her stomach which seemed to be covered in blood. Her dress was torn and her head lolled, as though she barely had the energy to stand. It was her eyes that scared Mildred the most. They looked defeated and weak, as Mildred had never seen them and she was terrified, more so than she had ever been before. Ethel screamed at the sight of the potions teacher Drusilla putting an arm around her shoulders as she watched in horror.

'Someone go and get Miss Cackle,' Ruby advised. Enid ran straight into the headmistress' office to find it empty.

'I'll go to the staffroom,' she explained and ran down the corridor out of sight. Other students were beginning to emerge from their classrooms having heard the commotion. Miss Hardbroom tried to walk into the castle, but managed only a few steps before she fell. Mildred managed to catch her, placing her teacher's arm around her shoulders and trying for the life of her to stop the warm tears flowing down her cheeks. Maud ran to help, placing an arm around Miss Hardbroom's waist, but without warning their teacher disappeared from view, gone in a flash as though she had never been there. Mildred looked down at her hands, stained with the deputy headmistress' blood and sobbed, Maud holding her dearest friend as though if she stopped, they would both sink into nothingness.

'What's going on?' asked Miss Cackle, running into the pandemonium beginning to take place in the corridor.

'It was Miss Hardbroom, Miss,' explained Maud. 'She...she was really hurt but then she just disappeared and...'

'Thank you, Miss Moonshine. Can I trust you to get Mildred into the staffroom?' Maud nodded and began to escort Mildred.

'As for the rest of you, all teachers to the East Wing immediately and all students to their dormitories until this has been sorted out. Miss Drill, could you go and see to Mildred?' Imogen didn't need to reply but ran after Maud and Mildred as Miss Bat followed Miss Cackle to the East Wing, better known as the teachers' quarters.

'She must have tried to transport herself to her room, but as Enid explained I don't think she was in any state to have made it the whole way,' Miss Cackle explained to a frantic Miss Bat.

'But what happened? What... oh my.' That was all the chanting teacher could manage as they found Miss Hardbroom, trying to hoist herself from the floor where she had evidently landed. There was a smear of blood on the stone flagons and Constance was admirably attempting to use her right arm to pull herself to standing position. The headmistress went over to help her, but could barely prevent herself from bursting into tears. She had never seen so much blood and the way Constance was bent over illustrated the intense pain she was in, though she saw no sign of it on her face.

Constance saw Miss Cackle and Miss Bat from the corner of her eye, wishing they would just leave her. They didn't understand and they wouldn't, but of course they would charge in trying to be helpful. She felt the headmistress take her arm and try to help her up, making her feel more embarrassed and shameful at her weakness.

'I'm fine, Amelia,' she muttered, but even she was surprised by how little conviction there was in her tone.

'Don't be ridiculous Constance,' Miss Cackle fussed. Constance closed her eyes and gathered all of her strength, concentrating hard. She vanished once more, leaving the other teachers standing obliviously.

Miss Cackle was trying her best not to shout with frustration at her stubborn friend who clearly needed help.

'Miss Bat, can you send for a doctor? I believe that there is one staying in the village at the moment. And there's someone else, a Professor William Johnson. I think he would want to know what happened.' Seeing the confused look which often appeared on Davina's face, she sighed.

'Just send the messages, I will explain later.' Miss bat disappeared in a flash and Miss Cackle turned to the door a few feet away: Constance's room. It was the only place in the castle she hadn't been into since Miss Hardbroom had arrived and she knew she had to prepare herself for a fight. Knowing that knocking would come to no avail, she simply counteracted the sealing charm she anticipated would be on the door and made her way in.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 – Confession and endings**

Miss Hardbroom was sat at her desk, holding a cloth to the side of her head to clear the bloodstains. She turned her head sharply, though slower than usual, as she heard Miss Cackle enter.

'What are you doing in here?' she asked bitterly, fighting as Amelia could see to keep up the facade she was in fact alright.

'I could hardly leave you, Constance. You look as though...' she didn't quite know how to finish the sentence and it trailed off into nothingness.

'Yes, well it was a nasty fall.' The lies came so easily it was as though she had rehearsed them, which Amelia suspected she may have done.

'You don't really expect me to believe that this was a fall do you? That cut, for instance, was inflicted by magic, anyone can see,' Miss Cackle argued, pointing to the open wound on the side of Miss Hardbroom's face.

'I just slipped on my way back from the village, fell down the hill and hit my head. Really there is no need to fuss.' Constance knew that her attempts were futile, as the headmistress did not believe a word of it; she didn't blame her, it was far-fetched to say the least. Putting the cloth into a bowl of water, tainted with her blood, Constance summoned a potion from the cupboard mounted on her wall. She drank some from the bottle and immediately felt a little of her strength returning. Confident, she stood up, but her legs almost buckled and she had to grasp the back of the chair hard.

'I have known you for too many years now to believe that you would fall over. Why not stop yourself with magic? It doesn't add up and you know it. Who did this?' Miss Cackle asked, her tone cautious but certain.

'I do not know what you mean,' replied Miss Hardbroom, but she could not meet Amelia's gaze. At that moment, the face from the night before made its way into her mind, the cold cruel laugh manifesting in her mind. Constance made her way slowly to the bed and sat down. She realised how she must look; tattered clothes, blood dripping from her wounds. It wasn't something she liked to think about because she was supposed to be the person in the school who always kept it together.

Amelia moved closer to Constance who had, she noticed, retied her hair into its usual bun before she had entered the room. Why was it that she could not, just for once, realise that no-one cared if she had weaknesses? Everyone has something they are scared of, but Constance just couldn't bear for people to see her that way.

'I have called for the doctor,' the headmistress said, sitting on the chair Constance had just vacated.

'There is no need, I just need some rest,' she protested. Amelia's anger mounted and she let her feelings be known.

'Constance Hardbroom, you walked into the academy this morning one hour after breakfast concluded, not able to stand for more than a moment covered in severe injuries and you expect me to believe that everything is alright? It isn't! You know as much as I do that magic was involved. You can feel it radiating from you, like an afterglow, and I don't quite understand what happened at all. Oh,' Amelia said, remembering her words to Miss Bat and realising that she would have to make a confession, 'Constance I... I sent for Professor Johnson.' The deputy's head swivelled so fast to stare at her that Miss Cackle actually felt a shiver of fear. The look in her eyes was one of contempt and ferocity, something she had never seen before in a woman's eyes.

'How...how dare you!'

'It's not quite what you think,' Amelia tried, feeling like one of Miss Hardbroom's students.

'So you have not been spying on my whereabouts?' She tried to keep her composure, but inside everything was melting away. It was not only that her friend has betrayed her trust, but the thought of seeing William after what had happened filled her with more than dread, more than fear; it was something she couldn't even make sense of herself.

'You were lying to me, anyone could see that! I had a friend who said they thought they saw you and I asked her...well I'm not proud of it. But you could have told me,' defended Amelia, though knowing she was in the wrong.

'The irony, Amelia, is that I was going to – today. You couldn't just let me be. The least you could do would be to leave me alone now,' Constance bargained, hoping that the headmistress would allow her to be by herself which is all she wanted.

'I would, Constance, but I can't. I need to know what happened, why you're like this, because it scares me not to know.' The frank nature of Amelia's confession struck a chord with Miss Hardbroom and her denial faltered momentarily.

'I...I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to,' she admitted.

'Why not?' Amelia moved to sit beside Constance on the bed, though keeping her distance. She could see more clearly the damage someone, or something, had done to her. She was pale, more pale than it was natural to be, and seeing the stains across her deputy's dress portrayed how much blood she must have lost.

'Because,' started Constance, 'because I couldn't bring myself to say the words aloud.' It was the truth. The words you would use to describe her ordeal were not those used in everyday conversation.

'If...if I show you, you must promise me something.' She felt the barrier between her and her friend breaking down, and the reality of what she was about to do struck her.

'You cannot tell the Witch's Guild. I admit there must be an investigation but I can oversee that it is kept quiet and discreet. And you cannot tell anyone else; not the girls, not Imogen or Davina and not William.' Amelia noted that she had used the professor's first name. She wondered the depth of the relationship which had been concealed behind closed doors for these past weeks.

'I understand,' whispered Amelia.

'And you must leave me be for today. I will see the doctor and return to my duties tomorrow morning as normal. We cannot speak of it again. Swear on the Witches Code,' the stern quality of her deputy's voice concerned Amelia. She could feel the ominous tension in the room rising as Constance raised her arms. She noted the flicker of pain as her friend raised her left arm, which she could see had been badly broken. Placing her fingers lightly on the headmistress's temples, she closed her eyes and began to send flashes of her memories into Miss Cackle's mind.

Miss Cackle had not quite been prepared for what she saw. She saw Constance, her magic blocked and used against her falling in the woods with a dark stranger. She watched unable to act as the unseen man sent waves of energy coursing through her body, her heart weakening and her mind a daze. But as Amelia watched the last flash Constance sent to her mind, tears sprang to her eyes. It wasn't just the horror, the violation and the perverse nature of the attacker's acts, but watching helpless knowing that Constance had been through this, that he had forced himself onto her and hurt her in so many ways.

Removing her fingers, Constance stood again, walking gingerly to the window as she could not even look at the headmistress.

'Constance, I'

'You swore, Amelia,' said Constance gently.

'Bugger the code,' she shouted, 'how on Earth do you expect me to take that in and leave it! He...'

'I know what he did,' snapped Miss Hardbroom sharply, cutting across her, 'I do not need reminding of that fact.'

'But Constance, I am so sorry. I never could have imagined – you must have been so scared.' The tears came to her eyes but she saw no ghost of sadness in Constance, just the determined look she always wore.

'You swore on the code, Amelia, do not break that vow. It is over now and I am sure the guild will apprehend the man once they arrive. You will need to send word now as it may take a while for the message to reach them. I will see Professor Johnson briefly and then the doctor before retiring for the day.' Her voice was so clinical, it was as though it was a formality in her life.

'What do I tell the girls?'

'You cannot tell them the truth, I regret to say. Simply tell them I fell and that the guild is investigating. There will be tightened security around the perimeter of the castle and no unaccompanied excursions, the girls can make of it what they will. Now please, Amelia, I need to rest before tomorrow.'

'You cannot seriously concede teaching tomorrow Constance! After...'

'After what? You promised me that you would speak no more of this indiscretion.'

'But it is not an indiscretion, is it! It's your life and I believe you will only endanger yourself further.'

'Duly noted, headmistress,' said Constance complacently, 'but the girls have exams and I have a duty.' Amelia saw that the battle was lost and knew she would get no more from her on that day.

'We will talk about this again, Constance,' she stated before leaving silently.

Outside Constance's room, William waited with baited breath. He had come as soon as he had heard of Constance's situation, though he did not fully understand it himself. Miss Cackle came solemnly out of the room, the pathways of tears evident on her face.

'You can go in, but I would not expect a great deal of co-operation,' said the headmistress, not looking him in the eyes. She returned to her office, wishing more than anything that she could wipe the images from her mind and wondering how in the world Constance could cope as she did. He had abused her, was the simple facts; tortured and exploited her leaving her defenceless and vulnerable. How could anyone not be fazed by that?

William entered the room he had been in only once to see Constance staring out of the window. Her face was as white as a porcelain doll and he could see that it was taking everything she had to continue even to stand, not that she would admit it of course. He wanted to rush to her, to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be alright even if she didn't want to hear it, but something stopped him. She looked so sad, her eyes no quite tearful but definitely worn.

'You shouldn't have come,' she said gently, averting his gaze.

'I could hardly stay in the village knowing you had been hurt. What happened?' He could see that she didn't want to talk about it and she avoided his question well.

'What time is it?'

'Half past 10, but I hardly think it matter,' he replied impatiently.

'I need to see that insufferable doctor and then write that test the girls missed. It shouldn't put them behind if they have revised what I set them last week,' she rambled on, trying to act as though everything was normal.

'You have been through something terrible, even I can see that. The last thing you should be thinking about is work.' William moved towards her and reached for her hand but she pulled away and he sensed something was wrong.

'What is it Constance?' She turned slowly to look at him, her expression more cold and unfeeling than he had ever seen it. He couldn't know that she was dying inside.

'I'm afraid we can't see each other anymore.' Her tone was blunt and functional, as though she was firing him from a job.

'What? I don't understand,' he said, disbelief clear on his face. Not twelve hours ago they had been happy, laughing and sharing each other's company, him kissing her and her responding not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

'I have come to realise that this was a mistake on my part. It is not who I am and I am sorry that you have been caught up in a moment of madness-'

'Moment of madness, is that what you call it? Is that what you call the nights we've spent together and the laughs we have shared – a mistake? I won't believe that,' he said defiantly. She had been expecting as much and it was almost pity on her face.

'You can believe what you will but I am not the person you think I am; I don't fall in love and I have been lying to myself for the past few weeks. I am sorry,' she tried.

'No you aren't. You are just pushing me away because of whatever happened last night. You got scared and you didn't like it, so you are distancing yourself so that you don't get hurt again and so people won't see you as vulnerable. I thought you had changed, Constance. I love you,' he admitted, the tears coming to his eyes that he wished he could see in hers. She didn't know how to reply so just looked to the ground. How could he not see why she was doing this? It wasn't for her sake, but his. If someone was after her, they would always go for the ones she cared about and he was top of her list.

'I think you should go,' she said quietly, turning back to the window. William knew he was never going to win this argument and turned to leave. He felt the box in his pocket, and took it out. It was made from red velvet, smooth to the touch, and he left it on her desk as he walked out of her life. After he had gone, Constance ambled over to the desk and opened the box, fearing that she knew what she would find inside. A silver ring with a huge, shimmering square diamond stared up at her, reflecting her sorry image back into her eyes. Tears stung the wound on her cheek as she let them fall, but she didn't care. Why did she have to be the one that everyone hated? The responsibilities on her shoulders were those that few if any knew the true extent of and she despised it. Regaining her composure, she limped to the door where she let the doctor into her room.

* * *

><p><strong>You can't deny that is sad...and worth a review perhaps :) Just a few words to make a girl's day XD<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you everyone for the reviews! More are always, of course, welcome and appreciated but they do mean a lot :)**

**Enjoy this chapter and I am working on another, possibly for later tonight or at least by morning! **

**HB rules xxx**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10 – Everything is fine...<strong>

Miss Cackle left her office having taken a potion to calm her nerves. She saw in the corner of her eye William Johnson leaving the castle, obviously distressed; and, she could see, crying. Constance had surprised her before, but this was something else. Felicity Fairweather, her close friend and the one who had informed her of Miss Hardbroom's secret meetings, had been very adamant that she believed them to be in love. They had held hands, even kissed in the view of others and this was not something Constance Hardbroom did lightly. Why had she thrown it away? She knew she would have to talk to her, to try and make her see what she was doing to herself, but feared that it would not work. Remembering Mildred, Miss Cackle made her way to the staffroom. She wanted nothing more than a spoonful of sleeping potion and to meet once more with her bed, but looking at the clock she could see that was a long way into the future.

Maud had made Mildred a cup of tea in the staffroom and sat with her, watching her friend battle the haunting images of their form tutor and potions teacher collapsing before them. Mildred simply stared into space, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and Maud did not know quite what to say. She was thankful when Miss Cackle walked in, as the headmistress always seemed to know how to act, but she saw distraction in her eyes.

'Mildred, are you alright?' she asked gently.

'I'm fine, how is Miss Hardbroom?' The question was the only one she had thought of for the last half an hour and she came straight to the point.

'She is...coping,' Miss Cackle replied half honestly.

'What does that mean exactly? I mean, when I saw her she...' Mildred couldn't finish the sentence as tears washed over her face once more. Miss Cackle pulled up a chair next to Mildred and put an arm around her shoulder.

'Miss Hardbroom is a very strong and capable woman and I am sure that she will be fine with some rest and a strong healing potion.' Miss Cackle was waiting for the one question to which she would have to reply dishonestly.

'What happened, Miss?' The innocence in her voice deserved the truth, but no child deserved to hear about the horrors that had befallen Constance that night; so Miss Cackle tried her best to be forthright.

'Do not let Miss Hardbroom know that I told you this, and don't even tell the others; I have sworn on the Witches Code, but I think you deserve the truth, Mildred, after you tried to help her. Miss Hardbroom was...attacked in the woods. You know what she is like, she hasn't been forthcoming with detail but I understand he blocked her ability to perform magic and acted quite violently towards her. The doctor is sorting her out and I have seen her looking a lot better after a bit of time to get her energy back. There is no need to worry,' she assured the pupil. The last part had been a blatant lie, she knew, but there was no need to alarm the poor girl after the day she had experienced.

'Now girls, I suggest you go back to your rooms and relax for a while. There will be an assembly after lunch and lessons will commence as usual this afternoon.' Maud smiled weakly at Miss Cackle and led her friend silently from the staffroom.

After the girls had left, the smile faded from the headmistress' face and she let her head sink into her hands. Miss Bat emerged from the cupboard and made a cup of her infamous leaf tea, sitting next to her.

'I know you won't want to have to answer again, but how is she?' asked Miss Bat politely.

'Not the best, Davina. Someone used a lot of magic to make sure that she suffered, never mind the physical force involved and I don't know quite how she managed to survive last night if I am honest.' A flicker of a false smile was all she could manage. Miss Drill, who had been sitting in the corner, rose to her feet ready to take action.

'What can we do? Is there some kind of police we can call?'

'I have notified the guild and they are sending a member tonight. I am going to request that they do not concentrate their inquiries at the school, as it will no doubt frighten the girls,' Miss Cackle explained.

'Who could do that to someone? It doesn't even bear thinking about,' said Miss Drill, pacing the length of the staffroom as her anger grew.

The doctor was a tall wizard, dressed in a black suit carrying a briefcase as he strode into the room. He looked as though he had suffered a rather challenging ordeal with a patient, which Miss Cackle guessed had been Constance.

'How is she?' Miss Cackle was the first to ask, but only beat the others by a fraction of a second. She could sense whether he was going to try and put a positive spin on what he had seen or say it frankly.

'I won't lie to you, I haven't seen damage like that for a long while; I am surprised that she survived at all. It appears as if someone used electrical energy conjured by magic on her, which has had a considerable effect on her heart. There is some bad head trauma from where she hit her head but I think that is under control. I've had to give her a blood-replenishing potion and about four other concoctions which she was not pleased about and I've tried to do what I can. Her arm is quite badly broken and if it hadn't been for her instinct to take a soothing draught it may have been worse. Her abdomen was severed by a bolt which was where she lost most blood from but I think I have stemmed the bleeding.'

'Was it really that bad?' Miss Bat asked, astonished at what she had just heard.

'Worse I should expect; I do tend to sugar coat things. She can hardly stand as it is and that's after a strengthening potion and normally I would say that she should take two weeks off at the very least,' he said guiltily.

'But she wasn't having that, was she?' said Imogen with a smile.

'She threatened to turn me into a frog or worse and nearly did, mind you. Oh, yes, that's the other thing; her magic has been affected by the trauma. Only slightly and it should be normal in a few days, but the stress has meant that it will be unpredictable for a while and she shouldn't materialise everywhere, she isn't strong enough though she won't admit it. I would come back in a few days but she has banished me from the castle, which was an interesting experience. Just keep an eye on her and let me know,' he said finally and made for the door. Miss Cackle rose instinctively and showed him out of the castle doors.

Returning to the staffroom, her eyes swam with tears.

'What do we tell the girls?' Miss Bat asked.

'I am under instructions from Constance to tell them she fell, but not to deny the guild investigation is ongoing,' replied Miss Cackle.

'Did she tell you what happened?' Miss Drill enquired curiously.

'Yes,' the headmistress replied honestly, 'but I swore on the code not to divulge any information. And trust me, you wouldn't want to know.' At that moment, Miss Hardbroom materialised beside the urn and began to make herself a cup of tea. At first, she was shaky but regained her stance and poured the hot water into a cup. Miss Bat squeaked and ran straight for the cupboard, knocking books from the table as she fled.

'Miss Hardbroom! What are you doing here?' Miss Drill could not contain the note of surprise.

'I am making myself a cup of tea if that's alright with you,' replied Miss Hardbroom, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She had changed into a different dress, one which did not completely hide the cast on her arm or the bandages wrapped around her middle, but she looked almost as gaunt as she had when the headmistress had left her. She had made the effort to look as though nothing was troubling her, with her hair scraped back into perfect shape and a spell of disguise cast on her face to attempt to hide the marks that were still fresh on her cheek.

'Constance, the doctor not only said that you should be resting but that you were not to materialise like that,' said Amelia, the concern in her voice as blatant as ever.

'I am not about to be instructed as to what I can or cannot do by others, Amelia. I am not a child!' She turned and shot a warning glance at Miss Drill, who had been preparing to back the headmistress up.

'Yes but-'

'No buts. I am returning to my chambers as instructed, if that makes you feel any better. Good day.' She disappeared into nothingness again, leaving the teachers aghast.

Materialising back beside her bed, Constance crumbled. The pain had been almost unbearable; she had refused medication to prevent it as it would make her drowsy. Her good arm grappled at the bed post, catching her body before it fell to the ground and she manoeuvred herself back onto the bed. It had been a front, of course, to show the others how she was coping perfectly when she was in fact not coping at all. The ring box stared at her from the desk and she sighed, sitting back on the bed. She had been told not to use magic too often, but she despised this prospect, clicking her fingers to change her clothes to her purple silk pajamas. She undid the bottom few buttons, lifting her top to reveal the bandages wound tightly around her middle. Already, patches of red were beginning to appear and they reminded her to take the line of potions at the end of her bed.

After several minutes of trying to find a comfortable position, Constance raised her right arm and a pen and paper floated gracefully to where she was sitting, as well as a book to rest on. The test for tomorrow was something not only necessary for the girls, but something for her to keep her mind on that wasn't based around pain or flashbacks. She began writing out a very difficult set of questions about healing potions, knowing which pupils would get each question right as she wrote them. A drop of water fell onto the page, blurring the ink. Clicking her fingers, she removed the stain but another drop fell. She realised then that they were her own tears, but she didn't know why she was crying. Yes, she had reason, but she felt nothing. Perhaps that was why. She had been subjected to a vicious attack, been forced to amble back to the castle, collapsed in front of the whole school and lost the only man she had ever truly loved, and yet she felt nothing. It was the barrier method that had been taught to her during her days under Mistress Broomhead at witch training college. The name still made her shudder, her long wavy hair rippling down her back.

Her days with Mistress Broomhead as her tutor had been by far the worst of her life. It was there that she had become the person she was today, but she could have been so much more. There had been a time where she had been forced to make a terrible decision, whether to stand up to her tutor or to let her shape her life and she knew the next moment the decision she made had been wrong. She ran her long, bony fingers across the thick white scars which still ran up her arms; not self-inflicted, she could never do that, but memories from her college days. She could remember each one to the point where she could recall the pain, the method, the tears late at night. And here she was again, sat alone crying like a child. She brushed away the tears with too much ease and returned to her writing.

* * *

><p><strong>You all know you want to review :) <strong>


	11. Chapter 11

**As the chapter title suggests, another dramatic chapter awaits! Rather a long one too but I couldn't wait to put another one up :)**

**Hope anyone who reads this enjoys it and bribery for anyone who reviews hint hint! So bored revising at the moment I would love to read what everyone thinks and can't believe how many people have actually read it so far, though I may be being naive and absent minded, oh well!**

**Rambling, unimportant, read on and enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11 – At death's door<strong>

Miss Cackle had called a meeting of the whole school and was nervously trying to shape the words in her mind. How much should she tell the girls? Probably best to be a little freer with the truth with them, to put their minds at ease and prevent a widespread panic. Walking up onto the stage, the room fell almost silent. Those who did not know what had happened earlier that day pointed at the vacant seat where Miss Hardbroom had always sat, and the headmistress felt a pang of guilt and sadness that she was not there to back her as she always was.

'Now girls, as many of you will be aware, Miss Hardbroom suffered a rather nasty fall this morning and was left unable to teach her classes today. You will be pleased to know that she is fine and recovering for today in her room, but will be back teaching again first thing tomorrow. There will be a member of the Witches Guild visiting the school over the next few days to rule out the possibility of any foul play involved, and as an extra precaution, there will be tightened security around the castle as well as a ban on unaccompanied excursions until further notice.' The hall broke out into a sea of whispers, as she had known it would. The pupils were not stupid; they could put two and two together and come up with the fact that someone dangerous could be around, someone dangerous enough to attack Miss Hardbroom.

'Quiet, girls! Now there is no need to panic. I think it would be wise to return to normal lessons this afternoon, with obvious exceptions, and leave any gossip for after classes have finished. Thank you for listening girls and off you go! There is no need to be worried,' she lied. She didn't like putting on the fake, comforting smile to reassure the girls but it had to be done; Constance had been right as always.

Thankfully for Miss Cackle, it was lunchtime so the girls were out of her way and she could think clearly. Miss Drill had offered to take Constance's monitoring duties and she was left alone in the staffroom with Miss Bat, who had been less of her usual frantic self since that morning. The awkward silence was broken as a tall woman with long blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail walked into the room. She was one of the younger members of the guild, still with a shy smile and fresh face, but experience was apparent beneath the demeanour she wore.

'Sorry, one of the girls showed me in. I am Melissa Ravenscroft, acting head of the Department for Magical Injustice. I believe there have been some rather unfortunate goings-on?'

'You could say that,' said Miss Bat, staring mesmerised at the fireplace.

'I am afraid, Miss Ravenscroft, that we can provide very little information for you. Miss Hardbroom has requested that you deal mostly with her. She is a very private person,' Miss Cackle explained.

'Understandable. The Guild had noted some unusual uses of magic in the woods last night and when we got you letter, it came as somewhat of a shock that it had been abused in that way. The prepared blockage of magic is, of course, a level three crime without a permit or just cause, not including the by-law of magic in a dangerous or life threatening situation. Can you give me any idea of what happened?' She was keen, Miss Cackle saw. She was in a department which didn't see a lot of action, as it was very rare that magic warranted investigation opposed to arrest.

'I simply know that Miss Hardbroom was walking home last night and came across someone who, well, put her in a rather bad state,' said the headmistress.

'You're lucky you didn't see her before; the doctor said she shouldn't really have survived,' added Miss Bat, not realising quite how inappropriate her tone was.

'That bad? Well I should probably go and visit her. Miss Cackle, do you think you could-'

'Of course, Melissa, I would be happy to. You may need some time to prepare... Miss Hardbroom is a very distinctive character!'

Walking with Melissa down the corridor, she prepared the woman for the barrier she was about to meet.

'When the girls found her this morning, I know it was very difficult for her. She likes to give the impression that she is invincible and was not comfortable with the girls seeing her as weak.'

'I see. How do you think she is coping?' asked Melissa curiously.

'Well you will see that she acts as though nothing has happened, but I... well I don't think she has really dealt with what she went through. I don't think I could have if it had been me.' They stopped outside Miss Hardbroom's room and Melissa turned to the headmistress.

'Do you know what happened?' she asked frankly.

'Yes, but I have sworn on the Witches Code not to speak a word of it and I have been led to believe that you well get more than enough information from Constance. I could give you no more information than she will give to you.'

'Can I just ask one question?' wheedled Melissa persuasively.

'One,' agreed Miss Cackle.

'Do you think he scared her?' Normally, this would have been a ridiculous question, but Miss Cackle could see where she was coming from. Melissa knew of Constance's reputation and also knew that this was the information the deputy headmistress would never divulge.

'Yes, I do. She showed me, only flashes, but knowing how scared she was; well it scares the hell out of me.' Meeting the woman's eyes, she nodded at her before knocking and opening the door.

'Ah, I wondered when I would be seeing you here,' Constance said, laying down the paper and books she had been resting on her lap to the side of her.

'How are you feeling?' Amelia asked.

'I wish I you wouldn't ask that infernal question. I am fine, perfectly fine with just a few bruises.' Melissa examined Constance from the doorway, her eyes moving from the bandage on head to the gash in her cheek, which had been only partially concealed by obvious magic. She noted the lumps beneath the duvet which indicated more bandaging and the cast on her left arm which was visible beneath the sleeve of her black dressing gown. Melissa had trained in the art of magic detection and the aura emitted from Constance Hardbroom was powerful, but tainted. Such a powerful electric blue light was emitted from this woman, more substantial than any other she had seen or heard of as it crackled and spread to things around her. But there was something, a fleck of the darkest black which she could sense; it was something caused by magic but kept alive by powerful emotional turmoil and Melissa felt very apprehensive as to what she was about to learn.

'Melissa is-'

'From the Witches Guild, I gather?' Was it her voice that gave her away? Or the mask of normality she wore? There was an element about Miss Hardbroom that Melissa could not quite place, but that suggested that there were depths to her that no-one knew of.

'Melissa Ravenscroft,' she said, introducing herself with a casual smile.

'I best be off. Glad to see you're looking well, Constance,' said Miss Cackle as she left Melissa alone in the room with her deputy.

'Well, Melissa, I feel we should skip the formalities. I am sure you are aware of section 8 paragraph 3 of the Witches Code? And the Witches Guild document 434/G?' She could see Melissa scanning her brain for these documents and suppressed a sigh.

'Yes, I know them but-'

'But nothing. I assume you have been trained in basic telepathy?'

'Yes, but I've never had to use it,' Melissa admitted.

'I will give testimony against this man, if he can even be called that, only through memory transfer. I will answer no questions unless absolutely vital and I ask that you do not trouble the other teachers or the girls. You need never to return to the castle again; simply take my memories, and write the report and catch the bastard. Understood?' Although she felt like a reprimanded child, Melissa agreed and tried to remember her telepathy training. She would receive the memories and then have to transfer them to a sealed beaker, where they could be archived and accessed.

Miss Hardbroom conjured a beaker and stopper, handing it to Melissa who sat at the end of her bed, hoping that it would work.

'Ready?' She nodded, closing her eyes and clearing her mind as Constance put her fingers against her temples as she had done Miss Cackle's. This time, however, was different. She was forced to relive every moment of the previous night, every time he had sent the magical electricity through her veins and every time he had touched her. She had tried to blot it out, but through the transfer everything she experienced came back, and she saw herself from above, being forced to watch him invade her being. The transfer of such painful memories in the detail required by the laws Constance was manipulating took time, took scrutiny and all of the pain and fear returned to her.

It was almost twenty minutes before Constance removed her hands from Melissa's temples. Melissa was visibly shaken, but Constance was shivering and she cursed as a tear ran down her cheek which she quickly banished. She let out a gasp of pain as her head exploded, jolts of agony forcing her to close her eyes. She felt Melissa's arm on her shoulder and her distant, worried calls to her. Constance tried to speak but couldn't utter a word, feeling the world slipping away from her as the unyielding barrier of pain washed over her again and again. In desperation, she extended the fingers of her right hand and tried to summon the draught of healing potion on the desk, anything that could stop the excruciating torture; but she couldn't manage it. She guessed the Melissa had run off to get Miss Cackle, but there wasn't going to be anything she could do. She hadn't realised that it would be this bad, but she knew that there would be repercussions for messing with her memories so soon after the event. That combined with her body's weakness had obviously caused some kind of reaction. She could sense more presences in the room and became aware that she was now lying down, her muscles moving spasmodically and sending more pain to her head. Then, without warning, there was a flash of blinding light and she felt her body convulse one last time, the pain almost too much to bear, before she let out a large breath of air and the agony ceased, leaving only a dull ache.

Miss Cackle had leapt to her feet when Melissa had burst into her office, tears streaming down her face shouting something about Miss Hardbroom. She had never run so fast in her life and when she saw Constance lying on the bed, crying out in pain with her arms jerking about uncontrollably, she had nearly collapsed in shock. Miss Bat had joined them; obviously she had heard the commotion and followed her but she had to fight the urge to run straight back to her cupboard and stay there for the rest of term. Running in, Miss Cackle didn't know quite what to do. She saw Melissa take a beaker and mutter something inaudible before releasing a dark, shining essence from her head into the container. Amelia took Constance's right arm and tried to hold her down, not sure what else to do. She wanted to run and hide like Miss Bat would, but she couldn't leave Constance writhing in agony for her own selfish plights. When Constance fell silent, Miss Bat burst into tears and Melissa took her out of the room to comfort her. Amelia was left alone, her hand on Constance's arm and her head swimming. She watched her friend's chest rise and fall, checking that she was still breathing as though scared at any moment she could slip away.

'Amelia?' Miss Bat whispered, poking her head around the door.

'Yes Davina?'

'Melissa sent for the doctor again. She said Constance was doing something about memory transfer under section something, I wasn't quite listening,' Miss Bat admitted sheepishly.

'Oh! Section 8, she must have been using telepathy to give her testimony against...but that shouldn't have caused this kind of a reaction, even in her state.'

It was a while before Constance began to stir, but Amelia didn't leave her bedside. The rest of the school had been given the day off for studying, though the headmistress doubted that anyone would work. The rumour mill was already in full flow, some saying Miss Hardbroom had died and others that she had given birth. The doctor arrived and examined the sleeping Miss Hardbroom and looked rather gravely at Miss Cackle.

'Well the good news is that she seems to be sleeping soundly now,' he said optimistically. Amelia restrained her urge to reply as sarcastically as she could.

'So...what's-'

'The bad news? Well her breathing rate and heart rate are both dangerously low, but I think that is just her body responding to the episode. My best guess as to what happened is a little more uncertain. From what I know about what happened, which is shaky knowledge at best, I would say that when the bolts of energy hit her, they coursed through her body and stopped at her brain, lying dormant and waiting to be released again. The memory transfer probably sparked them off again before they had time to neutralise. Theoretically speaking, it shouldn't give her any more trouble but I'm not sure her body was ready for that kind of a shock so soon.'

'So...what now? I mean, what do we do?' asked Miss Cackle worriedly.

'She will probably sleep for the rest of the day at least and as long as she gets some rest and takes the medication she should pull through. But she will be weak and need to be kept under another's watchful eye, not that she will like that. And someone make sure she eats something, she's barely there as it is.' He packed his things and left, Miss Cackle thanking him as he departed.

'God does that man ever have any good news?' The voice was thin, more like an echo than a sound. Amelia turned to see Constance's eyes screw more tightly shut as she tried to move.

'You just love to terrify people, don't you Miss Hardbroom!' exclaimed Miss Bat. Miss Cackle pulled the chair she had been sitting on before closer to the woman's bed and sat down.

'I would ask how you are feeling, but I could guess your words here and now,' said Amelia, who didn't think Constance needed any more pessimism. Constance opened her eyes a fraction, but had to close them again.

'What time is it?' she murmured.

'Around half past three,' said Miss Bat.

'I haven't slept for so long in years,' whispered Miss Hardbroom, using all of her effort to get out the words.

'You should rest,' warned Miss Cackle, knowing that until the day she died she would never take the doctor's advice but trying anyway.

'I am sure that I do, but that just isn't going to happen. Can someone pass me some strengthening potion? I can't even open my eyes properly.' Asking for help was something Constance never did lightly and it hurt Miss Cackle to see her like this. Managing to lift her head, she took the bottle in her shaking hand, refusing to let anyone give it to her like a child, and poured more than was probably wise down her dry throat until she felt the effects beginning to work. The bottle dropped to the floor with a resounding crash, but Constance did not even flinch as the others did. She opened her eyes and sat up straight in her bed.

'Shouldn't you all be doing some form of teaching right now?' she snapped, rubbing her aching head with the ball of her hand.

'Melissa,' she remembered suddenly. Melissa stepped forward, looking pale and drawn.

'Yes?'

'Did you get them?'

'I did Miss Hardbroom,' she replied, taking the beaker from her pocket and placing it at the end of the bed.

'Well at least it wasn't for nothing,' Constance croaked. Although she was regaining some of her strength it was clear how ill she was. Her skin was more than pale, but as white as the bandages wrapped around her head.

'Now thank you all, but I will probably be forced back to sleep in a moment and it is rather dull watching someone in a deep slumber. You have seen that I am fine and I will, as promised, be back to work in the morning.'

'Really, Constance! As your headmistress I order that you take the rest of the week off,' said Miss Cackle stubbornly. Constance had expected this.

'If, in the morning, you can honestly say that I do not look fit to work then I will indeed retire to my room for the rest of the week. Agreed?' Miss Cackle could not argue, but she could sense that Constance had a trick up her sleeve.

'Alright, but you must rest! No working once you think I have gone and the doctor said not to use magic.'

They left the room to be greeted by Miss Drill, who had been keeping an eye on the girls in the great hall. Miss Cackle relayed to her everything that had happened and Imogen couldn't quite believe it.

'And she still wants to come back to work tomorrow? Unbelievable...'

'I know, but would you like to be the one to tell her she is to be confined for a week?' Admitting that she did not, they returned to the staffroom with Melissa, who had experienced the worst possible first day of work.

* * *

><p><strong>Welcome reviews :P You know you want to.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello everyone! This is the next chapter, quite a long one I might add but key to the developments soon to come.**

**Thanks as usual to the reviewers, who keep giving me the will to continue posting and, of course, any others who wish to review are more than welcome and definitely encouraged! **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12 – Carrying on<strong>

Constance woke with a start, not knowing what had disturbed her until she realised that she had been crying out in her sleep. Perspiration covered her forehead and, having not taken her potions since before she had fallen into the world of intolerable nightmares, her whole body ached. The sound-proofing spell on her room should, she hoped, have ensured her privacy during her troubled slumber and it did not appear that anyone had dared to enter the room without her permission.

She swung herself reluctantly around so that she was in a position to get out of bed, her feet meeting with the cold stone floor. She remembered the events of that afternoon with a serious displeasure, blaming herself for the humiliation it had brought onto her. Standing, Constance steadied herself before walking over to her bathroom. She had made an agreement with Miss Cackle that she had to be well before she returned to work, something which was looking far less likely as she bore the frustration of a slow and inhibited walk to the sink. The potions she was supposed to take were lined up, with bottles of every size and colour in a row far too long for a prescription. She raised her right hand and the candles mounted on the walls lit themselves in an instant to illuminate a sight she was not completely ready to see. Looking at her face in the mirror was something Constance rarely did, as she was not a vain person and only cared that her appearance was neat rather than attractive; even she knew that she looked in a bad way. Her eyes were dark and lifeless with grey circles underneath and there were lines at the corners of her eyes which she had never seen before. Her face was thin and as pale as a ghost's, her hair a curtain of bedraggled curls. It was hard to see herself looking so vulnerable, but looked determinedly down at the medication to decide what to do next. It was clear that she had to do something drastic to become fit enough to work within the next 5 hours, but she had to go the right way about it. Sleeping potion and painkillers would, no doubt, make her drowsy and she knew for a fact that the potion to heal her arm could affect her ability to perform spells. If she took that once on a night, it shouldn't affect her too badly, she thought. Going through the potions strategically, eliminating the ones that would make her weaker and working out when to take each one. The potion to replace the lost blood was rather important, so she couldn't avoid that but she would only need to take it for a few days and the strengthening draught worked wonders at times without too many side effects.

Looking at the bandage on her head, she pondered; she didn't want the girls to think that she was a complete invalid and take advantage, as she knew a few of them would. She gingerly removed the bandage to reveal the large bump which had formed and several cuts, still fresh and asking to bleed. Taking a long drink of strengthening potion, she walked a bit more confidently to the bookshelf in her main room and scanned the shelves. She took a large, old black book with fragile leather binding and took it to her desk, flipping through the pages with her right hand until she came to a list. Normally, she wouldn't have hesitated to cast a spell or brew a potion, but she knew that the ones she required were meticulous and could go horribly wrong if not perfectly executed.

Closing her eyes, Constance vanished into thin air, materialising in the potions laboratory. She had to take a moment to regain composure, but it was easier than walking the full length of the school. She lit a fire beneath a cauldron on the front bench, looking through the ingredients in the cupboard and picking out the ones she needed. It was a potion that she only knew of through reading and had never tried herself. The concoction would give her more than strength, but would numb her to any pain and trick her body into believing that it was perfectly healthy. The dangers were extensive, she could be dying and not even realise; but she couldn't stay in bed for a week, it wasn't who she was. The mixture would give her confidence and if she stopped taking it at some point to see how her body was coping then there should, theoretically, be no problems. Adding the ingredients one by one, a deep green mixture frothed and bubbled before her. She could tell that it was right without consulting the book; she had always had a knack for simply knowing. When it was finished, she ladled it into a large bottle and put a stopper on it, marvelling at how it swirled and fizzed. She took a cautious sip, feeling a warm sensation trickling through her veins as the aching and soreness simply vanished. It cleared her mind and she felt...normal. Better than normal, perhaps. If she could perfect the spell to disguise the bruising on her head and neck then no-one would be any the wiser and she could return to normality. Thinking this, she almost laughed. It had been no more than 24 hours since the traumatic experience had taken place and she was already brushing it under the carpet. She feared sleepless nights were to come and dreams invaded by images would haunt her, but as long as she could teach potions she was content; or so she assumed.

The next morning, Constance was the first into the staffroom. Unbeknown to the others, it had taken her most of the early hours to work out the exact combination of spells to disguise her injuries, but all that could be seen of the previous day's mishap was a thin bulge of bandage barely visible beneath her long velvet dress and the cast on her left arm which she had found no way of safely removing. Miss Bat came out of her cupboard at half past seven, stretching as though she had actually slept in there that night.

'Oh, Miss Hardbroom, I see you are looking much better today,' Davina said, trying to contain her surprise to see the deputy almost completely recovered in less than one day.

'Yes I am completely recovered Miss Bat,' she lied convincingly, 'would you like a cup of tea?' Miss Bat nodded, wondering why she was being offered tea by the woman who usually greeted her with a scathing glance.

As she went over to the urn to collect the hot water, Miss Drill and Miss Cackle entered the room. They were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of afterhours netball practices.

'But the girls would really enjoy it,' pleaded Miss Drill.

'I am sure that a select few would benefit, Miss Drill, but I am afraid that it is not feasible at this moment in time,' replied Miss Cackle, leaving Miss Drill looking very downhearted. It was then that she noticed Constance, making tea and looking as she had done before everything had taken place, bar the cast on her arm mostly hidden by her long sleeves.

'Constance! I have to say it is quite remarkable...' She couldn't quite complete the sentence. It was incredible, but she got the feeling that magic was heavily involved in the deputy's speedy recovery and she feared the repercussions it would bring.

'As you can see Miss Cackle I am perfectly well and with your permission I will go and oversee the first girls going for their breakfast,' said Constance. Miss Cackle should have been pleased that Constance was dealing so well with what happened, but looking at her she could only see the bloodied form that had fallen in the corridor or the woman crying out in pain from yesterday afternoon.

'Of course,' she replied, allowing Miss Hardbroom to leave briskly. When she had gone, the headmistress voiced her concerns to the other teachers.

'Something isn't right,' she said sternly.

'I am guessing magic is involved?' asked Miss Drill sarcastically.

'Yes, some very serious magic. I just hope she knows what she is doing...'

Mildred Hubble walked groggily into the dungeons for breakfast, rubbing her eyes to try and wake herself up properly. Her sleep had been disturbed, though thankfully she couldn't remember the dreams that had forced her to wake every so often. She could see the cold, lumpy porridge which was being served out and reluctantly joined the queue next to Maud and Enid. Although it was Saturday, they still had to get up and as nobody was allowed out of the school unaccompanied, it looked as though many girls would be studying in the library all day.

Mildred took her cold porridge and sat at a table, Maud to her left and Ruby to her right.

'I haven't seen HB since yesterday,' Enid said, dying to gossip about the only exciting thing to happen in the school in weeks.

'She didn't look very well,' admitted Maud stirring her porridge.

'I only hope she's forgotten about that potions test we were supposed to have the other day,' whispered Ruby, a smile brightening her face. Mildred tried to return the smile, but she was worried about her teacher. Miss Hardbroom had looked awful, really weak and hurt as she had tried to help her and although the sympathy she felt for Miss Hardbroom was surprising, since they had never seen eye to eye, she still wanted to see her safe and well.

'It would be pointless to assume that I had forgotten, Ruby Cherrytree,' said a voice from nowhere which caused all of the girls to look round. More than a few were surprised when Miss Hardbroom materialised, arms folded across her chest, next to the table harbouring Mildred and her friends who were all gawping like children in a toy shop. Mildred suppressed a smile of relief as she saw how Miss Hardbroom seemed to have recovered so well, with only the cast to indicate she had been hurt at all. Her eyes, however, were alight with anger and purpose.

'All of the fourth year girls are to report to the potions laboratory at 10 o'clock sharp for the potions test they missed yesterday. Considering exams are so near I assume that everyone will have been revising hard. Miss Nightshade, Miss Moonshine and Miss Cherrytree, I would like 400 lines: _I must not waste my time with idle gossip_. Anyone who does not appear exactly on time will find themselves in detention for the rest of the year, understood?' A hypnotic chorus replied,

'Yes Miss Hardbroom', before the teacher turned to watch over the rest of the dining hall.

'How does she do that?' Maud whispered.

'I don't know, but I get the feeling she had quite an experience yesterday. It could be fun to test her limits, see if we could skip the potions test-'

'ENID!' hissed Mildred, appalled at what she had just heard. 'She was injured, perhaps in an accident or perhaps she was attacked, but that is no reason to take advantage of her vulnerability! Honestly, I can't believe you would say something like that,' Mildred said in disbelief.

'I was only suggesting it Mill,' Enid assured her, backing off.

'Mildred is right though. No matter how much we hate HB at times, no-one deserves to be victimised. She wouldn't do it to us, not seriously, and she has saved our lives quite a few times by now,' Maud debated. Her friends nodded in concurrence, but Enid was secretly plotting a little surprise for the potions exam later that morning.

10 o'clock came quicker than Mildred had hoped. She had revised for the test during the week, but since then her head seemed to have emptied itself of all the knowledge she had gained. Wracking her brains for any response, she tried to list the ingredients for a love potion but found it was useless; she knew nothing. Going into the potions lab, Mildred was downtrodden. She took her place beside her usual cauldron and Miss Hardbroom appeared as usual at the front of the classroom.

'The papers are on your desks girls. You have two hours, but may continue for longer if you feel you need to. Begin.' Miss Hardbroom's tone was serious and she looked at Mildred, trying to encourage her to use the clever mind she knew was buried beneath the clumsy girl who always made mistakes.

Mildred turned over the paper, seeing a long list of theory questions ending in the practical test of making a healing potion. She was surprised to discover that she knew some of the answers and, newfound confidence giving her strength, she began to scribble the answers down as fast as she could.

Miss Hardbroom looked over at Mildred to see her working; for once. It was a sight that gave her satisfaction, knowing that there was at least one potion she had managed to drill into the girl's head. Sitting at her desk, she subtly took a small brown coloured bottle from the bag beneath her desk and held it in her hand: the numbing potion. It had worked wonders that morning and she felt fine, but she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about the way it worked. Feeling the first pain in her stomach, however, she dismissed her trivial concerns and took a quick gulp from the bottle before returning it to her bag. She was sure one of the girls would notice, but they should think nothing of it. She had two hours to wait before the girls would complete their exam and it was time she used to catch up on the marking she had missed; one day off work and the papers had mounted on her desk already.

Mildred was finishing her potion which, although a little weak, was one of the first she had successfully completed this term. She could hardly hide the smirk on her face as she stirred it around three times and left it to simmer for the remaining few minutes it needed. Enid seemed to be preoccupied, staring at Ethel's cauldron, and Mildred knew what was about to happen before it did. Enid had extended her fingers, muttering an incantation at the cauldron Ethel Hallow was stirring and she heard the resounding boom as it exploded.

'Uh oh,' said Enid, concern registering on her face.

'What?' Maud asked, looking horrified.

'I think I may have got the words slightly wrong. There were supposed to be fireworks, but I don't see any, do you? She was right. The cauldron had exploded, knocking Ethel back and covering the front bench in bright red sludge, but the potion hadn't stopped there. It was bubbling over, steam pouring from the cauldron and the mixture slowly changing colour from scarlet to black.

Miss Hardbroom's head snapped up immediately, and she saw the culprit stare in horror at the carnage she had caused. She stood up immediately, flexing her fingers and casting the incantation to stop the cauldron; but it wouldn't stop. She cast the spell again, but her magic would not stop the cauldron from bubbling over. Mildred had instructed everyone to move away from the cauldron but she couldn't do anything to stop the reaction. She looked to Miss Hardbroom, terror in her eyes, and Constance closed her eyes, concentrating hard. Muttering the words under her breath, she sent a bolt of lightning into the pot which exploded again before falling silent. Extending her fingers once more, the mess cleared itself up and the girls were left shaking but relieved.

'Miss Nightshade I think you can safely assume that you will hand in a 5000 word essay on the dangers of sabotaging healing potions along with 1000 lines of _I must not act like a foolish ape who does not know how to use magic_ when you come for detention tomorrow night, something which I think will become a recurring feature of your future evenings. Now run along girls before I decide to put you all in detention!' Her voice had been brimming with perhaps more malice than she had intended, but she was battling her own feelings of shame and guilt as well as those of anger. The girls all left in a hurry and Constance waved her hand to attract the answer sheets from the desk, which piled themselves neatly on her desk alongside labelled vials of every girl's potion. It had been a test for her to prove that there was nothing wrong with her magic, but why had it faltered before? Every pupil had avoided her gaze on the way out, looking at their friends as though brimming to discuss why HB couldn't stop the potion. It was going to be a long day.

Miss Cackle sat in a chair before the fire in the staffroom, licking the remnants of a cream cake from her fingers and lying back, contented. It had been a trying day, with many girls attempting to fool the recently imposed security measures and failing completely and a bit too much gossip about Miss Hardbroom's wellbeing for her to feel at ease. Miss Drill was doing a handstand against the wall and Miss Bat was singing merrily to herself whilst making a drink at the urn. Constance strode in with a presence that could not be ignored, though Miss Cackle doubted she intended to draw attention to herself.

'Good evening Constance,' Miss Bat said a little too cheerfully. The look Constance threw her forced her to retreat slowly into the stationary cupboard as Miss Cackle tutted gently.

'Is something the matter, Miss Hardbroom?' asked the headmistress.

'The fourth years have been making spectacles of themselves again. After Miss Nightshade's ridiculous performance in this morning's test, I caught Ethel and Drusilla trying to sneak out of the castle and then Ruby Cherrytree trying to enchant a chair in the library to sing. Then the first years started what they thought was a rebellion, locking themselves in the broom closet in protest until they realised nobody knew what they had been against in the first place. I have given 3000 lines, 10 essays and countless detentions to the point where I don't think I will have an evening to myself in months.' Her rant had been a way of controlling her anger as it bubbled in her like warm stew. It did allow Miss Cackle to ask a question that had been on her mind since lunchtime.

'Yes, I heard about Enid's shenanigans. Are you alright, Constance?' They fire in Miss Hardbroom's eyes as she looked at the headmistress suggested to Miss Cackle that it had not been the right way to ask.

'It was just that I heard about the trouble with the healing potion,' she remarked casually. Constance's tone was stern and forceful, 'as you well know, headmistress, I am perfectly fine. The incident in the laboratory was a very specific case and one where the potion became rather more difficult to deal with than usual catastrophes in school. I would appreciate it if everyone stopped watching over me as if I were an invalid and minded their own business for a change!' Disappearing on the spot, Miss Cackle wound normally have reprimanded the deputy for being so unfeeling and told her that she had only wanted to know because she cared, but she could see that she had touched a nerve with Constance and thought best to leave it be for the moment.

Constance reappeared in her room, fuming at the audacity of the headmistress. It was clear that she would not be allowed to forget with everyone, even the girls, watching her every move. Waving her hand, her bag appeared on the desk from wherever it had been before and she took out the numbing potion, observing it closely. It had worked wonders that day, but to conserve her stash she would not be able to take more until morning. Already she could feel the effects wearing off, like cold water being poured over her head and a throbbing headache was left in its wake. Suddenly, she felt nauseous, overwhelmingly so. She stumbled into the bathroom, arriving at the sink just in time.

It took almost ten minutes for the feeling to clear before she could straighten and clean herself up. She had always hated the vulnerability nausea caused and the dull ache which was left in her throat. Constance poured herself a glass of wine which she casually turned into water; she would never be seen taking alcohol when she knew she would be chaperoning the girls on a walk tomorrow morning. The dull but unavoidable task of changing her bandages was the only thing which stood in the way of her and her pile of marking which already formed four neat piles on the table. The looming darkness which was beginning to envelop the castle reminded Constance of the dream and she shuddered involuntarily. The nightmares of her past had visited her last night, mocking her and laughing in her face at her weakness. She could almost hear the witch's voice now,

'You're a failure, Constance, and you always will be.' She could never be free of that voice, not completely, or the look in the eyes of the devil that warned her how she belonged to her, to that woman, for as long as she lived.

Constance shook these thoughts from her mind; she had to, otherwise she feared they would drive her to the depths of insanity, and that was conformation that her former tutor had succeeded indefinitely. Sighing, she changed into her nightwear, letting her hair flow down her back and set about her usual tasks, still denying the truth to herself.

* * *

><p><strong>Tune in soon to find out what happens next with Constance and William and whether she has really dealt with what happened to her on that night...<strong>

**And maybe review too :) Please? XD**

**HB rules x**


	13. Chapter 13

**Bit of a shorter one but it comes with a brother :) Thanks to all readers and reviewers, hope you enjoy the next installments!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13 – Coming to terms<strong>

Over the next two weeks, the gossip finally died down. The girls found newer topics of conversation other than their potions teacher, who seemed to them to have forgotten all about that Friday morning; if only they knew of the turmoil she suffered at night. The fourth year girls were preoccupied with exams, so much so that even Mildred could not spare a thought for Miss Hardbroom, instead concentrating on not failing the tests to come. They were gruelling and seemingly endless, each paper appearing to be the same as that last until all of the girls were worn out on the final Friday of exams before a half term break. The last exam was a history of potions, which was famously one of the hardest. Miss Hardbroom presided over the exam, and when it was over all of the girls cheered; except for Mildred.

'I did awfully,' she said solemnly to her friends, staring at the ground.

'I'm sure it wasn't that bad Millie!' comforted Maud. 'Anyway, there are no more exams! That is something worth celebrating at least?' Mildred's smile was forced but her friends had managed to banish her worries, even if only for a second.

Miss Hardbroom sighed, wanting to tell the girls off for being so loud but not being able to find the energy. For the first time in many years, she decided to let them be and strode to the staffroom. Miss Cackle was the only teacher in the room, doing a puzzle in the latest daily paper by the fire. Miss Hardbroom sat at the long table and took the pile of books from her pigeon hole along with a large bundle of letters to sort through in silence.

Miss Cackle looked up at Constance and was astonished at what she saw. She wondered if her deputy headmistress had noticed it herself, but she had definitely lost weight. She walked with confidence as usual but there was a falsity about it and her face was thin and pallid. There was something in her demeanour which screamed, unwittingly calling out for help as though her body was drowning under the weight of expectations from her stoic mind.

'Have you been feeling alright Constance?' she asked tentatively. Constance sighed and looked over at Amelia. She could no longer find the strength for anger at the despicable question and settled for worn irritation.

'For the one hundred and twenty fourth time, I am perfectly well headmistress,' she replied firmly. Miss Cackle could not take it any longer. Staring for a moment at her deputy, she could see that the lies were becoming further from the truth than ever before and her frustration got the better of her.

'Oh for God's sake Constance, why can't you just admit it? I don't know what you've done, but I assume it's to do with your rather speedy recovery?' Miss Hardbroom opened her mouth to protest but couldn't bring herself to deny the potion still lying guiltily in the bottom of her bag.

'So what did you take? I'm guessing it wasn't herbal tea,' she argued, bitterness biting in her tone and walking over to Constance who had also stood up to protest her innocence.

'It was just a simple remedy, I-'

'I don't believe a word of that!' Miss Cackle exclaimed and looked at the bag by Miss Hardbroom's feet. Stretching out her right hand and muttering a few words, she caused the bag to zoom into her outstretched palm and rummaged inside it, before Constance could act against her.

'Really!' Constance half shouted, not feeling at all comfortable about the headmistress looking through her things and a sense of looming dread invading her mind as she knew what the headmistress' reaction would be.

'What is this, Constance?' She had found the potion. Miss Hardbroom didn't know why she felt so guilty; it wasn't as if it was contraband.

'It is a numbing potion, Miss Cackle,' she replied honestly, sitting back down and trying not to let her guard slip before Amelia.

'Oh my God Constance...' said Miss Cackle weakly.

'What? It isn't illegal and there is no reason I shouldn't be taking it,' Constance defended.

'You know as well as I the effects this potion can have! No doubt you've suffered the headaches and nausea?' It was true. As soon as the potion wore off, Constance couldn't stop herself being violently ill and the pains in her head were like nothing she had ever known.

'I have a job to do, headmistress, and I was going to do it any way I could. You would never have let me back to work in the state I was in and I wasn't about to become a...a vegetable for two weeks waiting.' Her explanation contained a flicker of feeling that Miss Cackle picked up on and her expression softened. She could see what her post at the academy meant to Constance; it was her life.

'When did you last eat?'

'What?' The random question confused Constance.

'Well?' It was then she realised that she couldn't remember. It must've been...no, not yesterday. It could have been almost a week since she had been forced by Mrs Tapioca to eat half of a buttered scone during an inspection of the dungeons. Miss Cackle conjured a bowl of apples, one of the only things she enjoyed as a guilty pleasure, and watched the woman before her reluctantly beginning to eat one.

'That potion, though I can see you have brewed it well, has a dark side. You could have become very ill.'

'Don't patronise me Amelia,' warned Constance. She couldn't play the victim again; it broke her to know that others pitied her and made her sick to the stomach to feel like someone that needed to be looked after. No one had ever taken care of her when she needed it and now that she did not, the concern felt like more of an intrusion.

'I did what I had to in order to get back to work; and...and to forget, I suppose.' The truth was finally surfacing, the truth hidden behind a barrier of ice, discipline and painfully constant control. Miss Cackle sat next to Constance, looking into her unfathomable eyes but could only see glimmers of the person beneath the almost impenetrable disposition.

'Look, I am nothing if not a teacher. There's nothing else I know how to do and I couldn't bear the thought of being away for such a long time. I would've had to think about things and I wasn't...I'm not ready.'

'Why did you send William away?' Constance had to resist the urge to disappear or to start an argument, but simply sighed.

'Because I couldn't handle the thought of him finding out what happened and I didn't want to risk being hurt again.' The answer was honesty Amelia had never experienced before and the crack she had heard in Constance's voice, just for the briefest of moments, gave a glimpse into the turmoil she would never reveal. She placed a hand on Miss Hardbroom's arm and although she felt her deputy stiffen, she did not pull away.

'Stop taking the potion,' said the concerned mother within Miss Cackle quietly, 'It does more harm than good and you should be feeling better by now. I think you need to talk about what happened, though; I can still see the images...' Miss Cackle's voice trailed off as the memories returned. There were a few minutes of silence; the conversation could go one of two ways and Amelia could feel the reluctance emanating from Constance beside her.

'I...I was just so scared. I haven't felt so scared in over 20 years and I hate that feeling of having no control.' Smiling, Amelia listened.

They talked for well over an hour and, vowing never to repeat a word, they each retired to their rooms. Pouring the potion down the sink, Constance watched the liquid swirl and fight against the pull of gravity. They had talked, it was true, but even then Amelia could never know everything she was feeling; she just couldn't let the barrier imprisoning her emotions melt away completely. She never cried and she never smiled, for if she did surely the world would end. One thing, however was certain; for the first night in two weeks, Constance's dreams were not harassed by pervading memories and she could sleep as soundly as the insomniac she was.


	14. Chapter 14

**Next one straight up as promised, coming to the main part of the story now so continue reading :)**

**Enjoy...**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14 – Reconciliation<strong>

As dawn broke, the first hints of warm air were beginning to enter the castle as the month of March headed towards its inevitable end. The morning was fresh and crisp and for the first time in the school year, Constance decided to take a walk. It would be hours before the rest of the school woke and longer before her presence was required, so she walked along the perimeter of the woods surrounding the castle to a large, open lake of the brightest blue. It was the perfect example of nature at its finest, untouched by humans and graceful in every way. Constance sat on a rock, taking in the fresh air and extending her fingers. Without her uttering a word, the water parted in the middle, one side was forming angry waves which crashed against the banks of the lake and the other staying serene and still, the fish swimming obliviously through the clear water. Returning the lake to its natural state, she closed her eyes and let out a sigh of contentment. The wounds from her past had not yet healed, but they were no longer visible. Every time she breathed deeply, a pain shot through her abdomen but she relished it; it meant she was still alive.

Miss Cackle called a meeting in the staffroom before breakfast, wishing she hadn't decided to take matters into her own hands and play the heroin. She paced up and down, wishing that Miss Drill could arrive so she could coax Miss Bat from the cupboard. Her prayers were answered as Imogen walked into the staffroom and Davina on cue emerged from the cupboard, flower petals in her hand and on her chin.

'I have called you here to tell you that I have made, what I feel, is a rather important error of judgement,' admitted Miss Cackle, biting her lip.

'What is it headmistress?' asked Imogen curiously.

'I don't know what you know about relations between Professor William Johnson and Constance, but let's just say they have not been on good terms for the best two months. I rather stupidly decided to...to invite him to give a talk to the fourth years in her potions class this afternoon.' Worry was apparent on all of the teachers' faces.

'But...but she hates him!' Davina said simply.

'I know. I suppose I thought they might reconcile, but I get the feeling that wishful thinking is putting it lightly. He will be here at lunchtime and I fear there may be fireworks ahead; I thought I would warn you all.' Miss Cackle did not get the chance to explain further before Constance Hardbroom walked confidently into the room. The headmistress shot a meaningful look at Imogen and Davina, who retreated to the cupboard and courtyard respectively.

'Constance?'

'Yes Miss Cackle?'

'I...I have made rather a presumptuous mistake.'

'What is that, headmistress?' It felt worse for Amelia, as she heard a lighter tone in her colleague's voice than had not been present in a long time. She was, dare she presume, happier this morning and she knew now that her mistake would bring severe reprimand.

'I, oh God, I asked William to come and do a talk to your fourth years this afternoon. I'm sorry, I know it was a bad idea...' her voice trailed off as she saw the pure anger in Constance's eyes.

'How dare... why would you even... is there any way we can prevent this from happening?' She was trying to hide her fear with anger, because it hurt her more than she cared to show; the prospect of seeing him again burnt in her chest like a vicious, crackling fire.

'I'm afraid not, he is already on his way,' said Miss Cackle, not meeting Constance's eyes.

'Well I suppose I will just have to make do.' She took it better than Amelia had thought, but she could see something behind Miss Hardbroom's tough exterior, a glint of feeling that she wasn't altogether comfortable revealing.

At one o'clock, Miss Cackle greeted William at the gates. He was handsome, she couldn't deny, though his soft expression was worn and tired. She hadn't gotten a proper look at him last time but she could see why Constance liked him.

'Professor, how glad I am that you could come and visit us!' she remarked, happily shaking his hand with her usual welcoming smile plastered across her face.

'Yes, well I think we both know I'm not just here for potions. How is she?' The question he had waited two long months to ask could no longer contain itself and burst from his lips desperately.

'She has recovered well. I can't say she was altogether pleased I invited you, but to be honest I think she is glad you are here; on some level.' They both knew that this was stretching the truth to breaking point, but there was an element of honesty in her words. The afternoon class would begin in thirty minutes, and Miss Cackle insisted on taking him for a cup of tea, preparing him for the inevitable conflict ahead.

Constance paced her room, four steps from the left to the right and back again with a turn of her heel. How she could sit through two hours watching him she did not know, but she had to. She would greet him as though he was any other guest speaker and leave him after the lesson was over with no more than she offered anyone else. But she knew, of course she did, that he had more than one purpose. He wanted to talk, but she wasn't ready. She wasn't ready to admit that she still loved him, that the only reason she broke their relationship was because she loved him so much. He could never know, yet she knew he would find out.

Mildred and her friends filed into the potions laboratory, sensing the tension already hanging in the air. It was, they had been told, a guest speaker who was coming to instruct them on potions at university level, but Mildred could see the look on Miss Hardbroom's face. She watched him, the professor, come into the room with an icy glare and extended no hand of welcome. Mildred thought it best to stay quiet during this lesson. After all, she had not failed her exams and she was to stay at Cackle's through the fifth year and hopefully complete her time at a school where everyone had thought she would fall at the first hurdle.

'What's HB got against that man?' whispered Enid in Mildred's left ear.

'I don't know, but I think it might be best not to get into her bad books today, don't you?' Enid nodded indefinitely, wondering how someone could have made Miss Hardbroom so angry that she wore the expression saved for first year detention or meetings in Miss Cackle's office.

'Good afternoon girls. Today we have a visitor, Professor Johnson, who is going to talk to you about higher level potion making. I expect you all to be absolutely silent and attentive for our guest.' Her sharp tone was even more cutting than usual and the usual chorus of 'yes Miss Hardbroom' was the last thing anyone in the room said without being asked.

Miss Hardbroom tried to avoid looking at William as he gave his talk to the girls. He was a good speaker, holding their interest and asking them questions to involve them, but she wasn't listening to what he was saying. Her eyes were forced down as she tried to mark the first year books but she couldn't concentrate at all. The two hours which passed were some of the slowest and most draining of her life. She tried to stop her mind questioning all of the decisions she had made regarding him, but a voice just in the back of her head just kept asking her why she had let him go.

'...And that, girls, is your introduction to potions at the highest level. Thank you for listening and I hope it hasn't been too boring for you.' Miss Hardbroom stood up abruptly and looked at the girls, whose smiles faded in fear.

'Right then girls, I would like an essay from each and every one of you, 5,000 words on your newfound grasp of potion making in for next Monday. Dismissed,' she said sternly and the girls cleared their things, walking quickly out of the door. Any complaints about the essay would wait until they were out of earshot, whispered and hushed on their way to chanting.

Miss Hardbroom gathered her books quickly and placed them in her bag. She had a small window to leave without having to talk to William, who was organising his papers, and it was closing fast. She began walking swiftly to the door, but a hand caught her arm. The grip was assured yet gentle, but she turned around quickly, flicking his hand away.

'Constance, I...we need to talk.' His voice was calm but insistent.

'We do not need to do anything. Rest assured I have made everything clear that I wished to on our last meeting.' Her tone was cold and calculated, but she could not meet his eyes for more than a moment because she knew that he would see the lies behind them.

'Then I'll talk and you can listen.' Her heart skipped a beat.

' I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you and try as I might I just haven't been able to let you go. You are the world to me, the only woman I could ever love and I just want to know why. Tell me you left me because you didn't love me and I will walk out of your life right now; you will never see me again.' The truth was on the tip of her tongue but he could see that she couldn't bring herself to say it. Without warning, a tear appeared in her eye and she looked at him so sadly it almost broke his heart.

'It...it was because I loved you too much,' she said quietly, looking down at the ground and dropping her bag to the floor. He waited patiently for her to respond, not wanting to push her.

'What happened that night changed me, it destroyed me and I wasn't about to let it destroy us. I would rather you had left me remembering the good times we had than the images of what happened to me.' Her eyes swam with salty tears but despite it all, she looked beautiful.

'I would never have left you, not because of anything. We shared something two people rarely experience and I could never let you go.' His words were the truth and she could sense it, but could she trust him? Could she tell him something that only three other people in the world knew of?

'I will tell you, William, but you have to promise not to pity me.' He nodded and dared to move a step closer; she didn't back away. Constance looked into his eyes and saw someone ready to listen, hanging on her every word just to hear her voice, and she felt love that she hadn't believed existed. She breathed deeply, ignoring the shooting pain across her abdomen and began to tell her story.

'I was attacked by a man I couldn't see. He blocked my magic so I couldn't retaliate and he, well he hurt me. I should have died and I think that was the plan, but that wasn't the worst part. He, oh God...he raped me.' She broke down, but he caught her in his arms and pulled her close. He had to admit he hadn't been expecting that, but it explained a lot. Her crying was hard but silent, tears staining the front of her face and sobs taking over her breathing. Her hands tried to cover her face, but she felt safe in his arms and let herself go.

'Oh Merlin's beard,' cursed Mildred outside the chanting classroom, 'I've forgotten my notes! I need them for the world's longest essay that HB set. Will you come with me to get them?' Her friends sighed; Mildred was the most forgetful human being they had ever laid eyes on.

'Do we all need to go?' said Enid reluctantly. 'If HB catches us we are dead meat.'

'True, but I can hear Miss Bat warming up and I wouldn't mind risking a run in with HB I could avoid that noise for another few minutes,' replied Ruby, with agreement from the others. Maud, Ruby, Enid and Mildred all ran quietly back to the potions corridor, but saw that Miss Hardbroom was still inside.

'Let's go!' hissed Maud, her panic evident.

'No, hold on, what is HB doing?' Knowing it wasn't a good idea but too excited to move away, they crouched by the door and looked through the window on the door to the laboratory.

'Are you alright?' William asked finally after Miss Hardbroom had been still beneath his arms for a few minutes. He let go gently as she straightened up, wiping her eyes fiercely and performing a spell he didn't know to tidy her appearance.

'Fine now, thank you,' she said half truthfully.

'Constance Hardbroom, why does everyone have to think that you're invincible?' he asked, stroking the side of her cheek.

'Because if I'm not, then what am I?' It had been something she had been asked so many times, yet this was the first time the truth had been given.

'A beautiful, amazing woman that I have fallen so madly in love with.' She looked up at him, trying to scan his expression for any ounce of doubt; she couldn't find any. He leaned forward slowly and she closed her eyes as he kissed her.

'Oh...my...God!' Ruby whispered, eyes wide watching Professor Johnson kissing Miss Hardbroom in the classroom. It seemed so wrong somehow, to see a teacher this way.

'I know! The world has gone wrong or something; HB has a boyfriend!' Enid said laughing. The others waved to silence her, watching eagerly to see what happened next.

William put one arm around Constance's waist and placed the other on the side of her head. Her arm was on his shoulder, assuring him that she wanted him to continue. Their passion grew deeper, the kiss tender and meaningful. A tear rolled down Constance's cheek, but for the first time in so long it was not one of sadness. Her lips caressed his, their bodies entwined and the heat radiating between them. They broke away for a moment, foreheads resting together.

'I love you,' she whispered to him, 'I always have, and I'm sorry.'

'There is nothing to be sorry about. You just have to realise that I am never, ever going to leave you.'

'I know that now,' she replied and reached back towards him, her kiss strong and powerful. He could barely contain the passion within himself and she felt his body warm against hers. She couldn't wait any longer and they disappeared, materialising as they had done so many millions of years ago in her bedroom.

* * *

><p><strong>Lil link down there says review XD Please leave comments, take pity this is still my first ff :)<strong>


	15. Chapter 15

**Sweet little chapter, another one up later but this is not the end folks!**

**Please review if you enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15 – Love blossoms again<strong>

'Woah wait a second! Where did they go?' Enid had been enjoying the story unfolding before her and was not pleased that it had been cut short.

'We shouldn't have been looking anyway,' said Mildred sheepishly, feeling guilty but overwhelmingly giddy at the same time.

'Looking at what?' Miss Bat had appeared behind them, her expression oblivious. The girls turned, ready to feign innocence until the last.

'Nothing Miss,' said Maud quickly, 'we were just waiting for Miss Hardbroom to leave so we could get our books.' The others were surprised at how quickly the lie came to her lips. Miss Bat could see the knowing look in the girls' eyes and needed to know more.

'I will pretend that I haven't seen you here...if you tell me what you were looking at!' Her childish giggles suggested that she couldn't be trusted, but if Miss Cackle was brought into the equation then things could get serious. Maud looked at Mildred, who nodded with a smile, and the girls launched into their unbelievable tale.

Constance didn't know how she had lived for the past two months. She knew that she had not been happy, but realising how much she had missed this man brought anguish to her melancholy heart. Their passion was wild, uncontrollable as he felt every inch of her, longing to give in to the urges they both had. Reaching back, she undid her plaited bun and let her hair fall like a waterfall of curls behind them. He unzipped her dress from the back as she undid the buttons of his shirt, their breathing heavy and laboured. It was not long before they were left in the grips of their feelings, their bodies merging and moving together and as one. He whispered into her ear, the sweet nothings she still couldn't believe were true and her mind was lost as he became part of her: part of her soul and part of her body. He kissed her all over, from her toes to her forehead, exploring her body with scars, new and old, colouring her pale skin. His hands wandered through her hair as he kissed her mouth and the nape of her neck, wanting this moment to last for a lifetime. Her hands grasped his back and pulled him closer as she felt safer in his arms. When they finally collapsed, exhausted and panting, she knew that he was the only one for her. She hadn't shared herself with many others, but she had never felt such things, such amazing things, for another human being. Constance nestled into his chest, hearing his heart pounding and feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath. He wrapped his arms protectively around her, never wanting to let her go.

Miss Cackle was left pacing the staffroom once more, with Miss Drill's attempts to calm her proving useless.

'She's probably just gone to talk to him,' Imogen said for what felt like the hundredth time.

'For over an hour?'

'She had a free lesson; she might have gone for a walk.'

'Constance Hardbroom has never, in her life, left the school during school hours; not to go for a walk not for anything. Every Monday afternoon, she comes into the staffroom, complains about Miss Bat, complains about the girls and then finishes her work, sends some letters and goes off to lunch. Every Monday as long as she has been at this school,'

Miss Cackle's panic was plain to see, though Imogen wondered why she felt so protective over Constance. She knew they had been friends since whenever it was Constance had arrived at the school, but even so. She had only been gone for an hour.

'I will admit that it is strange but not completely unheard of. If she isn't back for dinner, then we will go and look for her, alright?' Miss Cackle nodded, but continued walking as Miss Drill absolved herself of responsibility and returned to her sports magazine.

Constance got reluctantly out of bed and began to get dressed, knowing that William was watching her closely.

'You are gorgeous,' he said adoringly.

'No I am not, but I don't think you are ever going to realise it,' she replied. Why couldn't she see what he saw? William noticed the red box on her desk and smiled.

'You kept it,' he said and she turned to him, puzzled. She noticed the box and flushed, her cheeks only revealing a slight hint of red beneath her pallor. She changed quickly into a new dress, decorated with Chinese print, and began to try to tackle her wayward hair. William came up behind her and kissed her neck, before beginning the search for his clothes. Constance went into the bathroom, but her head popped back around the door.

'The answer is yes, by the way.' His head shot up so fast that he hit his head on the side of her bed, as he had been looking underneath. Cursing, he stared after her, trying to process what she had just said. He knew what she had meant, didn't he? Oh God, it was happening!

Plaiting her impossible curls carefully, Constance smiled and imagined wearing white for once, her hair down and the ring on her finger. She had never pictured something like that before, but now she could see it as clear as day. She couldn't wipe the smile from her face, no matter how hard she tried; everything was right for once.

'That's it, I'm going looking for her,' said Miss Cackle finally. She had held off until the bell for supper rang and was halfway to the door when Miss Bat walked in, chirpily singing away. Normally, Miss Cackle would have let her go and continued on, but something stopped her.

'Good afternoon Miss Drill! What a beautiful morning; love is in the air and all is well with the world.'

'Miss Bat, have you seen Miss Hardbroom?' the headmistress asked hopefully.

'No, but I wouldn't be surprised if you can't find her!' She sang, going over to her usual vase and picking out a nice tulip for a snack.

'What is that supposed to mean?' inquired Miss Drill inquisitively.

'Well,' said Miss Bat, eager to share her knowledge, 'the girls saw her in the potions lab after the lecture. Shouldn't really have been down there, but I am glad they were now!' Miss Bat regaled the group with her tale, Imogen's eyes widening and a smug smile across her face. Miss Cackle looked relieved and confused at the same time, collapsing into an arm chair by the fire.

'Well well well!' said Imogen, not able to hide her obvious amusement, 'so she isn't untouchable.'

'Evidently,' agreed Miss Cackle weakly.

It was then that Miss Hardbroom walked into the staffroom, confident as ever as though nothing had happened at all. William followed her a few moments later and none of the teachers could look her in the eye. Imogen had to hide her face to smother her laughter and Miss Cackle noticed that Constance seemed preoccupied with a loose strand of hair.

'Evening, headmistress,' said William, sitting in the chair next to Miss Cackle. He looked like the cat that had definitely sampled the cream, but was trying for Constance's sake not to show it. His hair was more ruffled than it had been this morning and Miss Cackle couldn't suppress a grin.

'Good evening William. Will you join me in a spot of tea?'

'Thank you, Miss Cackle, I think I will.' Miss Hardbroom looked at her watch and realised where she was supposed to be. Without a word, she vanished into thin air. Miss Drill waited a few moments, knowing that it was not beyond her to re-materialise after a few seconds, before pulling her chair to sit with the others. Miss Bat sat on the floor beside her and they all waited expectantly.

'Do you really think I am going to just tell you everything?' William teased. 'I will require at least one cup of tea before I endanger my life by letting a few details slip.

Mildred almost jumped out of her seat in the dining hall as Miss Hardbroom materialised behind her. It had been deliberate, of course, and a flicker of a smile appeared in the corners of the teacher's mouth. Miss Hardbroom was not easily fooled and she actually enjoyed how the students thought they could hide how they had been and were continuing to talk about her. Someone must have seen them in the potions lab, she concluded, but she was surprised to find that she didn't care; better this way than some sordid announcement of her relationship. She scolded many girls for unnecessarily loud talking with a stern tone, but pretended not to overhear the hushed whispers or notice the muffling spells some of the older girls had tried to cast. Nothing could ruin her mood.

Constance stood outside in the courtyard in the brisk evening air staring into the sky. The stars seemed to sparkle, a symphony in lights playing above her and a crescent moon watching silently from its perch above the treetops. She felt his presence before he wrapped his arms around her waist, but she did not move. He rested his chin on her shoulder and looked up with her.

'Miss Cackle asked if I would do some more work at the school, running an extracurricular potions tutorial for the fifth years as an introduction to university and giving a few more lessons afterhours. I didn't know how you would feel so I said I would think about it.' William, she sensed, was not the sort of man to stray. He was the sort of person who would always run everything by her, whether she needed to know or not, and yet she sensed he could surprise her still if her wanted to.

'Do you know what,' she said turning towards him, 'I think that is a wonderful idea.'

'Really?' William had not been expecting that response and he smiled at her lovingly.

'Yes, really! The girls know about us, it is easy to see, and after a gentle reminder that love doesn't mean I am any less scary I think they will survive. And Miss Bat and Miss Drill, I would guess by now know enough. What did you tell them, after I left?'

'How did you...' he began and saw the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. 'Not much,' he admitted, 'I just-'

'You know what, I don't want to know. Let them think what they want, as long as I have you all to myself.' She kissed him gently, her arms around his neck and him embracing her close. They were perfect for each other, though it had not appeared so on first glance, and this was the start of something they both knew would change their lives forever, though Constance did not realise then in what way.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks to all readers, getting to the climax now and hope you enjoy!**

**Next few chapters should be up quite quickly as they are a joy to write.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16 – Demons<strong>

The next two weeks passed in a haze of happiness for Constance Hardbroom. With William working more often at the school, he spent at least two nights of the week with her and on weekends they walked along to the lake or into the village, no longer afraid to be seen together. The pupils had soon learned that they did not have free reign over the castle now that their teacher had a soft spot for someone. The day after the revelation, the second years had begun a mutiny in a potions lesson and had been shouted at for almost an hour, forced to clean up the mess and given 100 detentions and 15,000 lines apiece as well as restricted weekend activities and a blanket ban on any form of confectionary for the rest of the year. This had gone as a warning to other years, who appreciated the younger girls taking the fall, but some had tried again in vain. Fennella Feverfew and Griselda Blackwood had almost been expelled after Miss Hardbroom had caught them sneaking potions out of the classroom and with restricted books in their bags. Miss Cackle had been sympathetic this once, but it was clear that no-one was to escape HB's wrath just because she was in love.

There were, however, a few hints of change every now and then. Mildred noticed that she wasn't shouted at quite as often, and hadn't blown up the laboratory in the 14 day period. She tried harder every lesson, sometimes to no avail, but Miss Hardbroom seemed to be noticing her effort and, away from prying eyes, had given her more help and encouragement to improve her skills. Constance and William had decided to keep their engagement a secret, for now. He had understood immediately, but she explained all the same that whilst the girls were adjusting to the change as it was, it was probably best not to give them any more ammunition than they already possessed. On nights when she was alone and William forced back to his room in the bed and breakfast in town for work, she took the ring from its box and placed it on her ring finger, feeling the warm and magic it emitted as she wore it.

There was something that was troubling her, despite her bliss. More often than not, she woke with a start or a scream, images from her past bubbling through her mind and haunting her nightmares. Scenes from her childhood, from her days at witch training college were invading her life and even with William's arms to comfort her and rock her back to sleep, it unsettled her. The nights when he wasn't there were the worst, and she took it as a warning; something was coming.

Miss Cackle sat in her office, browsing through bills and receipts at her leisure. Things had been quieter and happier of late. Constance rarely began any disputes now and though arguments with Miss Bat and Miss Drill were not uncommon, they were far less fierce than they had been before William's arrival. The Easter holidays were around the corner and the headmistress was sure that the next term would be prosperous; that was, until she got the letter. It was in an envelope of thick, expensive parchment and with a crest of the Witches Guild in wax on the back. She opened it curiously and read the contents quickly, the smile disappearing from her face and a look of horror replacing it.

'No, not now...' she moaned to herself and wondered how she was going to break the news to Constance; she feared it would destroy her happiness faster than it had appeared.

In the staffroom, Constance had returned from lunch in the village with William and was making tea. She had brought with her some of Amelia's favourite biscuits from Cosie's which lay on a plate on the coffee table. Sipping her tea, she smiled at Miss Cackle as she walked into the room.

'Good afternoon Amelia!' Her voice was bright and cheery; something the headmistress never thought she would admit. How could she tell her? How could she ruin such raw, natural happiness?

'Constance, you may want to sit down for this,' she said weakly.

'What is it, headmistress?' She couldn't beat around the bush any longer.

'I received a letter from the Witches Guild this morning. Due to the retirement of one of its members, there is to be a quick inspection tomorrow morning. Constance...Mistress Hecketty Broomhead is coming to Cackle's.'

The tea dropped to the floor and the cup shattered. Constance's eyes grew wide with shock and fear. Her legs buckling, she caught herself on the table, barely managing to hold herself up long enough to find a chair to take her weight. It had been over a year since Mistress Broomhead had visited the academy as an inspector and it had terrified Miss Hardbroom to see her old tutor back to terrorise her again. She felt the scars on her arms and neck prickle as she remembered such things from her past that she thought she had forgotten. Why now? Constance knew there was another reason for her arrival; Mistress Broomhead was not one for coincidence.

'Constance, are you alright?' asked Miss Cackle, trying to catch Constance's gaze.

'Fine I'm...I'm fine. We'll just have to...have to show her we are up to standard and she will leave and never, ever come back.' It was more to reassure herself than the headmistress, though she didn't believe it. Her heart felt like it had stopped in her chest and her breathing was shallow; it couldn't be. Not when everything had been going so right for once. But she didn't have a choice; she was supposed to be strong, so as Miss Cackle stared at her, full of concern and fear, she could only force a smile and pretend that everything was going to be alright.

Constance sat on the side of her bed, staring at nothing in particular when William walked in. Miss Cackle had already forewarned him about tomorrow's visit and he wasn't quite sure what to expect. Mistress Broomhead was a name he had only heard when Constance called out in her sleep. It was something they were working towards getting through, but were going to be forced to confront that night, he knew. He sat beside her and she rested her head on his shoulder. Then, unexpectedly, she burst into floods of tears, sobs taking over every breath. She wrapped her arms around his chest, something she had never done, and held on as if she would be lost if she let go. He was surprised at first, but put his arms around her and rested his chin on the top of her head. William had never seen her like this. The first time he had seen her cry, it had been controlled and silent; an outlet of emotion but still with the awareness of people watching her. Now, her tears flowed and her eyes were closed, her body shaking with the effort to let everything out. He wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, but he feared it would be a lie.

'I'm sorry,' she muffled as she tried to regain some composure, 'I should be more-'

'No, you shouldn't,' William assured her, kissing her forehead lightly as she straightened. 'Who is she?'

'Mistress Hecketty Broomhead was my tutor at witch training college. I was sent there from a young age, younger than most, because I had _potential_.' The last worse was laboured, like it had been her curse since the day she had first encountered the witch she spoke of.

'She made me the person I was before you met me, before I settled here. There is a reason I am such a hard, unfeeling person, William, and she is that reason. I have tried to break her influence, but it haunts me wherever I go because I don't know how to be anyone else.' Her voice shook with fear and anger and William began to see how much this woman had tormented her.

'And the scars?' He asked gently.

'Oh, they are nothing; when you're body is pushed to the limits sometimes it struggles to heal the simpler cuts and bruises. She taught me for years, trained me to be exactly how she wanted me to be and that took some careful planning and of course harsh punishment. This is the tip of the iceberg, a faded glance.' He listened attentively as she explained further. William couldn't believe she had lived through such hell. Her mother had died in childbirth and her father had never loved her, putting her into care and she wound up, through all of her intelligence and promise, being tortured in a college that turned a blind eye. When she had finished, he held her close.

'I am sorry, Constance, but I have to go first thing in the morning, as I've been summoned to the university. You know I would give the world to be there, to help you-'

'I can't handle her on my own, not again.' Constance's tone was that of a scared child in denial, wanting him to fight her battles because she just could not handle it. He gently cupped her face in his hands.

'Thing is, Connie, you can,' the name reserved only for him made her believe his words but she was still frightened and not afraid to admit it. That night, she fell asleep in his arms and he stayed awake, feeling the need to watch over her as she slept.

The face which invaded her nightmares wouldn't leave her as she slept. It came to her over and over again, mocking her and screaming in her face that she wasn't good enough. A knife, a scream, a flash bright red and she woke, crying out for anyone to save her. William was there, thank God for that. Tears stung his eyes as he watched her struggle and he tried to calm her down, hoping that she wouldn't hurt herself in her terror. She stopped screaming and looked at him, feeling stupid and helpless. She curled next to him for a while, just wanting to be near to him until he left her and stopping him from seeing any tears. She could handle this, she thought, though she didn't believe it.

She watched sadly as he left as dawn was breaking above the skyline. It broke his heart that she was trying not to fall apart in front of him as she wished him luck and kissed his cheek, but she knew he had to go. And anyway, this was her battle to fight; or at least survive.

8 o'clock sharp: Amelia stood with the three other teachers by her side. The students were finishing breakfast downstairs with Mrs Tapioca to keep an eye on them and, knowing Mistress Broomhead would be perfectly punctual, the headmistress opened the door. Surely enough, she was already there waiting to be brought into the academy. A shiver of fear ran down Constance's spine but she refused to let it show. Those eyes, as black as night and cold as winter, stared at her with the anger that constantly boiled in her veins as she was introduced once again to the staff.

'Would you care for a cup of tea before starting you inspection?' asked Miss Cackle.

'Yes, I think so. And I should like to see the attendance records while I drink.' Her voice was clipped and sharp, the same as it had been when she had taught Constance everything she knew. She was hiding something, that was clear, but what?

By lunchtime, even the girls had had enough of Mistress Broomhead. She sat loftily in the corner, scoffing or tutting at every remark the teachers made and shaking her head at the pupils' answers. In the staffroom, she sat alone at the table and the teachers discussed outside what to do.

'We just have to put up with her for a few more hours and then she will leave. She's retiring isn't she?' inquired Miss Bat hopefully.

'Yes, but don't underestimate her,' warned Constance shakily, 'all she needs is a few minutes and she can change everything.'

They walked into the staffroom, a united front, until Hecketty stopped them with an announcement.

'Miss Cackle, I am going to buy the school.' The words were so unbelievable that had they not seen her mouth move, they would have thought them figments of their imaginations.

'What, Mistress Broomhead?' asked Miss Cackle.

'I need a castle to start a primary branch of the witch training college, for pupils who show excellence from the youngest age, and this is the perfect place for it.' Constance shivered, thinking of the horrors inflicted upon her being forced on younger children; it made her feel sick.

* * *

><p><strong>Next chapter will be up soon as promised, a lot of drama to come! It may be up quicker if reviews appear :) No blackmail intended but I would appreciate reviews as I love to hear what people think, it is very useful advice! <strong>

**Thanks to those who have reviewed so far, it has been great to read your comments!**

**Until next chapter...**


	17. Chapter 17

**Couldn't leave the cliffhanger too long, I wouldn't do that to you people :) This is kind of the biggy, the chapter where everything happens but it is not quite the end so watch out!**

**Thanks so much to lovely reviewers, you know who you are XD you keep me writing and the final 3 chapters will be up in the next few days when I have sorted them out**

**For now...!enjoy**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17 – Battle of endings<strong>

'But you can't just buy the school, Miss Cackle owns it,' piped up Miss Hardbroom bravely. At once she regretted saying anything. Mistress Broomhead rose to her feet and stared at her old protégée with intense fury. Miss Cackle, Miss Bat and Miss Drill moved away until the former pupil and teacher stood facing each other.

'All I have to do is submit a report to the guild stating how this school is failing, which quite frankly isn't far from the truth, and recommend that it have reforms undertaken. I will volunteer to head these new endeavours and take the school as my own, so don't you tell me what I can and can't do, Constance!' she spat, her face contorted with rage.

'And, of course, I need to keep a closer watch on you,' she said to Constance, a menacing grin spreading uncharacteristically across her face. She waited for the inevitable confusion to appear on Miss Hardbroom's visage before she continued.

'Yes, I have been watching you for a long time; ever since that unpleasantness at your graduation. I came to check up on you last year; you may have been letting your potential go to waste but at least you were keeping the standards I set for you. I couldn't allow my greatest triumph let me down,' she hissed, her words cutting and callous.

'My life, Mistress Broomhead, is mine to do with as I please.' Her voice was shaking through fear, but she knew that now was the time to confront her fears and everything she had ever hated in the form of one woman.

'Yes, you decided to go a bit wild after Christmas, hmm? Did you think I wouldn't know, wouldn't find out about your sordid, disgusting love affair with that man?' She was mad, she had to be. No-one could watch you in such a way; it wasn't legal let alone moral.

'I...'

'No reply to that one, eh Constance? I couldn't let you ruin everything we worked so hard for, which took years to perfect. So, I gave you a test.'

'No...' Everything fell into place and the smile across her tutor's face said it all. It was wrong, so wrong that she couldn't bear to think about it.

'Oh yes, I sent a friend of mine to remind you WHO YOU ARE!' Mistress Broomhead shouted at her, the volume causing Constance to flinch. Miss Cackle looked helplessly at her, realising what had happened and finding it impossible to watch Constance struggle to believe what was happening. She had almost killed her, forced such horrors into her mind that the headmistress was sure would never leave her deputy and she was proud of herself.

'He did a good job too. Almost went too far, bless him; he got carried away. But you remembered! You didn't let him win and you got rid of that vermin you had attached yourself to. I was proud, but then you fell back into the trap, thanks to Amelia over there. I was not going to let you ruin your life again.' Mistress Broomhead's eyes danced with excitement.

'Mistress Broomhead, I have known you to be callous at times; malice and violence came naturally to you and for so long I thought I was doing something wrong. But it's you, Hecketty; you are simply insane.' Constance didn't know quite where she found the strength, and felt power as Hecketty shrieked in despair.

'Fine, Constance. I knew it would come down to this, we were always headed here. Let's do it properly.' She clicked her fingers and they were outside in the courtyard, the students too as spectators to their duel.

The teachers were trying to calm the girls down, who watched confused and in awe as Mistress Broomhead and Miss Hardbroom stood a few metres apart, preparing to duel. They fell silent as the beautiful sunny sky was covered by dark clouds and thunder echoed across the valley.

'Let's see where your weaknesses lie, shall we? I think it's fair to say there is one person who can tell us all.' Her voice was mocking and cruel as Constance tried to keep calm. Inside, her heart was pounding and every cell in her body wanted to run. Mistress Broomhead had gone mad, it appeared. All of that hunger for control and dominance had led her to thirst for vengeance and punishment, watching over her greatest triumph and making her life a game to be played out as she wished. She held out her left hand and clicked her fingers. Constance looked over and the feeling of being plunged into icy water penetrated her body.

William, her William, stood looking dazed and confused a few feet from where the girls were stood, terrified but silent. He turned to Constance.

'Constance, I...' Everything from then happened in slow motion. Mistress Broomhead gave the cold, cruel laugh of a woman gorged in madness and sent a bolt of red from her fingers aimed straight at William.

Constance cried out, but it was too late. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, but she knew that there was nothing she could do. The last thing William saw was her face, stricken with sadness and anger and her arm reaching out for him as he fell. He tried to let her know with his final stare how much he loved her, but time was a luxury that was forced from him. She saw the light die in his eyes before he hit the ground, his soul lost to the realms beyond this world and she felt a part of her go with him. The tears in her eyes weren't enough, but what else could she do? Her heart seemed to stop in her chest as his head landed peacefully on the cold stone ground.

Mildred Hubble had been standing at the front of the crowd and couldn't stop herself running over to check if Professor Johnson was alright. She had gotten to know him quite well through the extra lessons she had been given by him and fell to her knees beside his lifeless body. She checked his pulse but there were no signs and he had stopped breathing. Tears flowed from her eyes as she realised... 'He's dead,' she whispered quietly.

Constance hadn't moved an inch; she had known before Mildred had confirmed the fact that he was gone, because she could feel the emptiness now left within her. All eyes were on her, but she couldn't move. Her brain could not register what her eyes saw, because she couldn't accept that her life was over, the happiness gone. She wanted to plead with Hecketty to give her the same release of death she had granted William, but her voice was caught in her throat. She placed a hand on her heart, struggling to breath and wishing to God she would just die. But then she felt it, like a rush of wind encircling her body, and she heard his voice inside her mind.

'Don't let her win Connie, she's not worth it. You can do this, I know you can. I will always love you...' His voice trailed into nothingness and she was back, standing in front of a silent group of sobbing girls and three women crouched by Mildred, trying to comfort her. She knew that it was her own mind calling to her rather than the lost voice of her dead lover, but yet it gave her strength; the strength she needed to finish this battle.

Mildred stood up and looked Hecketty in the eyes.

'You witch! You horrible human being,' she shouted, 'you killed him for nothing! You should rot in hell.' Miss Cackle pulled Mildred back and Hecketty smiled, ready to fire again. A bolt of energy of the brightest blue shot from her fingertips, headed at Mildred whose eyes widened in fear; but it never reached its target.

'Thank you, Mildred, but I will take it from here,' said Miss Hardbroom calmly. 'Under section 5 paragraph 3 of the Witch's Code, upon the unlawful murder of a witch or wizard, a witch is entitled to defend herself and others and use forces of self defence to detain the murderess or use equal force to protect herself and those around her,' she recited perfectly. She pushed her emotions to the back of her mind, locking them away in the cold prison of her deepest unconsciousness as she had been taught so many years ago.

'Good,' sneered Hecketty, 'I taught you well. Only problem is, Constance, I know how to get to you. You always did have a weakness when it comes to the innocent.' Hecketty raised both of her hands and sent a wave of light at the girls who scream and tried to run for cover. The light, however, deflected and hit the roof, causing tiles to shatter and slide to the ground.

Hecketty looked confused, but soon realised what was going on.

'Constance,' started Miss Cackle sadly, knowing what her deputy was doing. Constance had summoned a powerful force field which surrounded the teachers and the girls, protecting them from harm. As noble as her intentions were, she was now left to fight Mistress Broomhead, weaker and with less power. She was giving her magic, lots of it, to protect them, locking them away safe but unable to help and Amelia could barely contain her terror upon seeing the drained look on Constance's face.

'This is my battle, Amelia; I will not see others hurt for me again.' Constance's voice cracked as she avoided looking at the body of her dead lover on the floor.

'Oh dear Constance, it seems you have put yourself at quite the disadvantage,' mocked Hecketty. 'I hope you are ready to join William, Constance, but first I think we need a little reminding of who is in charge.' Although old, she sent spells at lightning speed and it was all Constance could do to deflect them. As a wave of blue light sped towards her, she stopped it with her magic but it kept coming, forcing its way through. She couldn't hold on and the light enveloped her body, causing pain like she had never felt. Every cell in her body burned and she couldn't keep herself from screaming and staggering backwards until the pain subsided. She despised the look of glee on Mistress Broomhead's face but it gave her the will to straighten and send back a series of spells, making Hecketty work to defend herself.

'I think not!' Mistress Broomhead screeched, conjuring a ball of fire and throwing it at Constance. It was magic like she had never seen it and it was destroying her; she knew, the girls knew and Mistress Broomhead knew. She dismissed the fireball, feeling the burns on her arms and neck blistering. She retaliated with her counter attack but it wasn't enough, it would never be enough.

Hecketty laughed at her feeble attempts, sending hundreds of small simple spells to overrun Constance and force her back. The energy cut her cheeks, her arms and one large bolt sent such excruciating pain through her head she thought she would pass out. Another wave of light brought Constance to her knees, her breathing shallow and her heart slow. She looked at Hecketty, her vision blurred and everything aching and stabbing.

'Any last words, Constance?' Mistress Broomhead asked seriously, ignoring the screams of the watching girls who turned to each other for comfort. Amelia watched in horror, unable to act as the force keeping them safe was too strong even for her magic. Constance said nothing.

'Disappointing, Constance; at least you will die like a heroin.' Mistress Broomhead raised both of her hands and brought all of her magic to her fingertips, ready to deliver the last blow. She released the light of purest red as a force crashing towards Constance and opened her eyes to see her protégée dead before her...only she wasn't. The light had stopped, inches from its target, and Miss Hardbroom was controlling it with her own magic. She managed to stand, and looked the horrified Hecketty in the face.

'You never realised, did you Hecketty?' she asked bravely. 'I am not like you, I never was. I became what you made me, but I was never you and I would never kill. That is why I can beat you, Hecketty Broomhead; because I couldn't kill even you and that makes me more powerful than you can ever be.' She waved her fingers, and the light changed, forming ropes to bind the woman before her.

'No...no you can't!' Mistress Broomhead spluttered, astonished and confused. A flash of blinding light caused everyone to shield their eyes and it was over.

* * *

><p><strong>Or was it...<strong>

**Lil link to review :) Just a few words would be lovely thanks!**

**xx**


	18. Chapter 18

**Another chapter up, though getting close to the end now. For all those waiting for a happy ending...well you'll see :) But must stress it isn't the end so there are a few more sneaky developments to come XD**

**Thanks so much to kind reviewers and always welcome new ones, hints :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18 – Heroics<strong>

Miss Cackle opened her eyes, blinking until she got used to the dull grey of the afternoon after the blinding white light which had filled the sky. Mistress Broomhead was lying, unconscious but perfectly alive, bound in rope on the stone flagons.

'Fennella, Griselda, will you girls see that Mistress Broomhead is kept under close watch?' asked Miss Cackle.

'Yes Miss Cackle,' they chorused and ran over to watch over the prisoner.

'Miss Bat will you send word to the Witch's Guild? We have a very serious criminal on our hands and I'd rather get rid of her as soon as possible.'

'Yes Miss Cackle!' She ran off into the castle, singing as she walked.

'Miss Drill, I need you to sort out the girls and-'

'Miss Cackle,' said Mildred meekly.

'Just a moment Mildred,' replied Miss Cackle gently.

'No, Miss, it's important...it's Miss Hardbroom.' The whole school turned and gasped to see Miss Hardbroom. She was still standing, but she looked unsteady and as everyone turned she fell heavily into a crumpled mess on the ground.

'MISS HARDBROOM!' Mildred screamed, her voice echoing through the courtyard like the call of a bird, and ran towards her potions teacher.

'Miss Drill, can you...?' asked Miss Cackle, referring to the girls looking shocked and horrified. Miss Drill obeyed, trying to move them indoors but only managing to move them a few metres as they watched, sobbing hopelessly, as their teacher lay unmoving in the middle of the courtyard.

Miss Cackle ran over and knelt by Miss Hardbroom, across from Mildred who was crying quietly.

'Constance?' she tried, attempting to hold back her own tears. Constance's eyes were reduced to slits and her breathing was terrifyingly slow. The injuries she had sustained saving the school were bleeding heavily, bruises visible across her head and burns scarring her body.

'I'm sorry...' she whispered to Mildred, looking into the girl's tearful eyes.

'No, Miss Hardbroom, I'm sorry. I've let you down so many times but I couldn't even...he-help.' Her words were struggling to leave her constricted throat between sobs.

'Never be anything different, Mildred; you are more powerful than you will ever realise' Miss Hardbroom managed. Using almost all of her energy she placed a hand on Mildred's who broke down into floods of endless tears.

'Amelia...' Her voice was distant and her eyes were fighting not to close. Miss Cackle let tears roll down her cheeks as she looked at the amazing woman before her.

'You couldn't just save the school, could you? You couldn't do that...'

'Can you promise me?'

'Anything.'

'I know how it is, I know what will happen, but I have to ask this of you. Bury me with him, please I-' Those were the last words she spoke as she lost her battle, her last words lost to the uncertainty of beyond, and breathed out heavily, her eyes closing. She looked like an angel in the slumber of death, at peace and at rest with only the glistening blood tainting her pearly white face.

'No,' whispered Miss Cackle, hanging her head. Maud broke free from the crowd and came over to hug Mildred who couldn't take her hands away from her face. Miss Drill ran forwards, putting a hand on Miss Cackle's shoulder.

'There was nothing we could do,' she comforted the headmistress, trying to hold back her own tears.

'She saved our lives. We owe her so much, why...why did she have to-'Miss Cackle couldn't finish the sentence. Miss Bat joined the girls, realising what had happened, she fell silent, joining the rest of the world in mourning.

* * *

><p>It had been five minutes since the world had ended. That's what it had felt like, anyway. Maud had taken Mildred back but Miss Cackle had stayed by her friend's side, refusing to leave her.<p>

'She's gone,' Miss Drill told her truthfully, fighting every instinct and forcing herself to remain with the headmistress for support

'I can't leave her here, it's not right.' Thunder rumbled overhead and fat droplets of rain began to fall from the weeping sky. The girls wouldn't budge either, paying their respects in silence and waiting for their headmistress. Everything in the past was a mere memory; not one girl could say that they had not cried for Miss Hardbroom. They knew what she had done for them, what she had given to keep them safe, and all they wanted was for her to be back shouting lividly at them once more.

It was then that the impossible happened. Lightning flashed and rain pounded the ground, but everything went silent. Miss Cackle looked up, sensing something had changed; she could feel the energy swirling around her, the crackle of magic pervading the air.

Without warning, Miss Hardbroom took a gasping breath of air. The heavens cheered with a clap of thunder, the trees bowing in honour with the wind which howled with praise. Everything seemed to stop and, somehow, everyone knew.

'She's...alive?' asked Miss Drill backing away, terrified yet dumbfounded. Miss Hardbroom opened her eyes, not seeming scared or surprised by her own impossibility and looked at Miss Cackle who appeared ready to faint.

'Doctor...' was the only word Constance had the energy to mutter. She was alive, but Miss Cackle could see that it was taking everything she had to hang on. Her eyelids fluttered closed then open and her breathing was irregular and laboured.

'I'll go,' volunteered Miss Drill and she ran first over to the girls who were more puzzled than ever.

'Girls, Miss Hardbroom is alright!' she said, realising it herself for the first time. Everyone cheered, confused but astounded by the impossible miracle granted to them. They didn't want to question it, why doubt the improbabilities that gave life? They were silenced by a wave of Imogen's hand.

'We aren't out of the woods yet, and I will need all of your co-operation. Miss Bat, can you ride to find a doctor. Ethel, you are a very good flyer and I am sorry to ask but can you go with her?' Ethel nodded, wiping away her own tears which were now mixed with droplets falling from the tumultuous sky.

'The rest of you, with me,' instructed Miss Drill and they all ran inside, stealing one last look at Miss Hardbroom, most barely able to believe it true, before complying.

Miss Cackle held Constance's hand her skin deathly white and talked to her as they waited, but she fell back into a state of unconsciousness.

'Oh no you don't; I've seen you die once today, don't make me say goodbye twice.' She watched Constance's chest rise uneasily and fall, checking every minute that she was still with her and knowing all they could do was wait.

'Wh-what happened?' Mildred Hubble asked, still suppressing sobs from the shock she had suffered. Maud had one arm around the shoulders of her friend, her head resting on Millie's shoulder. Everyone was in the main hall, girls gathered in groups trying to make sense of what was going on. Miss Bat and Miss Drill were trying as best they could to explain what was happening, but they were unsure themselves.

'I don't know, Mildred,' replied Miss Bat honestly.

'But is it true? Is she, I mean...is she alive?'

'Yes, she is as far as I know, but I'm afraid she is not at all well.' Miss Bat sniffed away tears she didn't realise would come. Her relationship with Constance had always been patchy, but perhaps it was how she had risked everything to save her, to save them all. It felt as though it had been personal; Constance had wanted to put her life on the line to save her and it didn't seem fair that she was suffering for it.

'She saved our lives,' sobbed Mildred, 'and she's dying for it.' Miss Bat sat by the tearful girl and took over from Maud as she broke into another stream of tears.

'Shh, it's alright,' Davina comforted. 'Miss Hardbroom couldn't even let death stop her before; she came back from the brink, she's not about to give in that easily.' The doors of the hall were open, and everyone turned, silent, watching as Miss Hardbroom was carried past. They didn't know what to say, there was nothing_ to_ say. Miss Cackle came into the hall, looking wet and drained with her hair flattened and her eyes showing that her mind was distant. Miss Drill and Miss Bat both looked up, but it was Fennella and Griselda who both ran up to talk to her. They were often considered to be the voice of the girls: the heads of the school, despite their tendency towards mischief, due to their ability for great skill and maturity.

'Are you alright Miss Cackle?' asked Fennella gently. Griselda muttered a spell beneath her breath which dried the headmistress off, one she had used a number of times already that evening.

'Thank you Griselda and it is not me, girls, you should be concerned about.' She moved into the centre of the room, commanding attention as only a headmistress could.

'I had to watch a noble friend die tonight, but she is no longer gone. Mistress Broomhead has been found guilty on a count of murder and many counts of attempted murder; the guild representatives have taken her away. She wanted to take the school for herself and make it her own, but her madness and cruelty was not something that Miss Hardbroom would allow to destroy this academy and when Hecketty struck down Professor Johnson, she would not let such a bully endanger any more innocent people.'

'She put her life in mortal peril because she protected all of us and we owe her everything, not just our lives. I don't know what is going to happen now, I won't lie to you. I don't know if I will have to deliver more bad news tonight. All I know is that we can only wait and hope, because the doctors are trying everything they can to save her.'

Miss Cackle couldn't go on. Her speech, she knew, had given many girls comfort and it was her duty to make sure that they were safe. She conjured a table of food and drinks, which was received enthusiastically but quietly, in respect. The headmistress walked over to where Miss Bat was holding Mildred in her arms. She knelt down so her eyes were at the same level as Mildred's and put her hands on the girl's knees. She stopped crying and turned towards her.

'Mildred, you were very brave tonight, standing up to Mistress Broomhead. I know that is something even Miss Hardbroom has struggled to do in the past.'

'I didn't do anything, really,' said Mildred weakly.

'You do more good than you can see, Mildred,' replied Miss Cackle warmly. 'I know when Miss Hardbroom...I know that you were a great comfort to her when she needed you and if - _when _she is better I believe she will want to thank you in person. Until then, look after yourself; many people need you, Mildred – more than you realise.' Miss Cackle's eyes were filled with sadness, but Mildred saw the truth in her words.

'Miss, you look tired,' muttered Mildred, wiping her eyes. Miss Cackle was surprised to find herself smiling.

'I am, Mildred, but I wouldn't be much of a friend if I just went to bed; nor would I be a very good headmistress,' she said resignedly.

'I don't think being tired changes those things,' replied Mildred wisely, 'you have done more than enough and you aren't any less of a person from admitting you need a rest.' Miss Cackle couldn't fail to agree with her, and suddenly a wave of tiredness washed over her, like an irrepressible sea of exhaustion.

'Maybe I will sneak off for an hour,' she conceded, finding it hard to believe how much Mildred was truly capable of. Miss Hardbroom, as always, had been right; she was more powerful than she could see.

Night had fallen across Overblow Castle and Miss Cackle had decided that it would be best for everyone to sleep in the hall, providing sleeping bags and pillows for all of the girls. She had taken Mildred's advice and retired to her bedroom for an hour in the afternoon, having checked on Miss Hardbroom. She had been told, however, that she could not see her friend and not having the energy to argue had gone to bed. Now, she was sat in the corner of the hall with Miss Bat and Miss Drill, staring out of the window into the solemn darkness.

'Has anyone heard anything?' asked Miss Bat.

'No; they wouldn't let me near her let alone tell me what was going on. I hope...I hope they aren't just trying to avoid the worst,' whispered Miss Cackle, voicing the fears which were eating at her soul to the others.

'She's always been strong,' said Miss Drill confidently. Miss Cackle resisted the urge to shout at her, passion and anger welling in her chest as she couldn't shake the image of death from her mind, but she reminded herself that the girls were fast asleep.

'Yes, she has, but this isn't exactly the flu; it's not something anybody should have to go through. God she looked awful,' moaned Amelia, putting her head in her hands. She felt Imogen's comforting hand on her shoulder, but it didn't ease her worrying.

'Maybe for now, no news is good news. It means...' Miss Bat pondered, not finishing her thoughts; everyone knew what she meant. No news meant that she was still alive and for now, that was enough.

* * *

><p><strong>Ooh, weren't expecting that? Please R and R :) Means a lot.<strong>

**Hope you enjoyed it, more to come tonight/tomorrow :P**


	19. Chapter 19

**The penultimate chapter, how sad! Please make it worth it and review...please :):)**

**Thanks as usual to all reviewers :P Last chapter tomorrow :'(**

**Enjoy, however, as this whole thing has been a joy to write.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 19 - Secrets<strong>

Mildred hadn't slept much that night and as she woke in the first light of dawn, she hoped that it had all been a nightmare; no such luck. She noticed a man walk into the room and over to where Miss Cackle was sitting in the corner. She followed him out, looking solemn, and Mildred's heart pounded in her chest.

'Ruby?' she whispered to her friend lying next to her, shaking her shoulder gently.

'What?' Ruby was already awake.

'Who's that?' Ruby turned and watched the man leave with the headmistress.

'I think he's the doctor who took HB to her room before. Wonder what he's doing?' Mildred nodded, her mind racing. She couldn't decide whether it was good or bad that the doctor had arrived; on one hand, Miss Cackle would surely have looked different if the news was what she feared, but she had not looked particularly relieved to see him. The breaking of a new day, she knew, would bring about change at Cackle's academy, but what change?

Miss Cackle walked quickly behind the junior doctor who had asked for her attendance. She wanted to believe that she was going to be reassured, but the young man had not looked hopeful or content when he had been sent to see her, simply worn and austere. She wanted to stop thinking of the possibilities before she knew more, but she couldn't stop herself. Every possible outcome had run through her mind during the night, and each scene replayed in before her as they walked. Arriving outside Miss Hardbroom's room, a female doctor was closing the door looked tired and haggard.

'Tell me honestly,' asked Miss Cackle, straight to the point.

'Well, she's going to live, she started positively, but Miss Cackle was not assured by having that as her opening statement.

'She was technically dead for five minutes, which starved her heart and brain of oxygen, but we have managed to increase her heart rate and I have given her oxygen and a blood transfusion. She has had some damage to her internal organs, but she wouldn't let us give her any pain relief so I've done all that I can. The burns will probably scar, and there were some nasty cuts across her neck and on her face that have had to be stitched, though they shouldn't cause any trouble.'

'I suppose what I'm saying Miss Cackle, is that she is going to recover eventually but the damage caused will leave a lasting impression. It will be a few weeks before she can walk properly again and I dread to think how her magic will be affected. She has suffered a lot of injuries and she won't let anyone give her certain potions; probably best not to question her on that right away though. She has sworn me to silence, I'm afraid, but she is lucky in one way; very lucky. I'll be checking in on her twice a week for the next month but I'm afraid there is little more I can do.'

Miss Cackle breathed deeply, trying to take it all in. It had sounded worse than she had imagined it to, but Constance was alive and she would get better; that was the part she was holding on to, the centre of the optimism the told her that everything would be alright.

'Can I see her?' she croaked, her voice breaking like glass from trying to remain composed.

'No more than a minute; it's hard enough for her to stay awake as it is.' The doctor smiled meekly and opened the door for Miss Cackle.

It was happening again. Everything that she had gone through the last time she stepped into this room was coming back to her, but a hundred times worse. She walked over to the bed where Miss Hardbroom was lying, her head propped up by many pillows so that she wasn't flat on her back. Her eyes were open but tired and her face looked worryingly ashen, dark circles hanging beneath her eyes. She looked sad and wistful, deep in thought as she stared out of the window.

'Constance?'

'It would be ridiculous to ask how I was,' she said, her voice surprisingly weak and toneless even under the circumstances.

'It would, but perhaps not so ridiculous to ask how you are doing,' Miss Cackle replied, forcing a deceitful smile.

'Considering everything, not too bad I suppose. I faced my fears, conquered the demons that have haunted me for years; but I lost almost everything in the process. It's not something you adjust to easily.' Miss Cackle marvelled at how she did not cry, though her friend radiated sadness and she just wanted to comfort her, but knew she couldn't.

'Could you pass me that red box on the desk please?' Amelia turned and noticed the velvet covered box, handing it to Constance who opened it, the sleeve of her dressing gown falling back to reveal a glimpse of the pain she was feeling; the burns blistered and raw that would probably never leave her. Amelia saw her take out a large diamond ring and place it on her ring finger and it this point, she realised and tears sprang to her eyes.

'I never got to wear it properly. Engaged for two weeks; not the great romance it could've been. Don't say you're sorry,' she commanded, seeing Amelia begin the pointless phrase. 'It is a sorrowful thing, but it has happened now. I have to move on.' There was a pregnant pause as Constance stared at the diamond, her own reflection staring ever back at her, and Miss Cackle tried to find the words to convey what was running through her mind.

'But you died,' blurted Amelia, her outburst not planned but simply an act of her mouth projecting her thoughts.

'Yes, and I'm afraid I can't tell you why I am no longer so, not now. I am sorry, but I don't quite understand it myself yet.' Amelia nodded slowly. She looked at the deputy headmistress, unable to understand why it was that she seemed so unfazed by what had happened to her.

'You look so tired,' admitted Amelia with a smile, wiping the tears from her eyes.

'So do you and I think we both need some rest,' retorted Constance, her eyes barely managing to stay open. Amelia went over to her, kissed her soft hair lightly and left without a word.

Constance had always been like a daughter to her, someone she valued above all others as a person and wanted to protect from the perils of everyday life; and now, she was going to take care of her whether she was allowed to or not.

Constance blinked away tears. Every muscle ached and she had done her best to keep it together for Amelia, but after she had left she groaned. Pain in her temples stabbed at her head like two knives twisting into her brain and her chest was tight and constricted. She had allowed the doctors only to do what they absolutely had to, but they had still needed to repair the internal damage and she feared she would not forget that experience in a hurry. She laid back, sleep washing over her body as she begged for a release from agony, but she knew that in the future, the not too distant future, it would all be worth it.

Miss Cackle took to the stage in the hall, all of the girls turning to watch her. They had all begun to talk after she had left the room and everyone there knew that this was the verdict from the doctors. The tension in the room was thick, you could have cut it with a knife, but Amelia was too tired to notice.

'You will be pleased to hear girls, that Miss Hardbroom is going to be alright.' Cheers echoed around the hall, everyone united in more than relief and happiness, but a release of the terror every girl had suffered. Not one person in the room a few weeks previously would have admitted that they liked Miss Hardbroom, but having caught a glimpse of life in the school without HB, and knowing everything she had sacrificed for them, they couldn't help but feel differently.

'Yes, there is a definite cause for celebration, but Miss Hardbroom will be resigned to her room for an unknown length of time and, due to the events of the past day, I have decreed that the Easter holidays will be brought forward by one week. I will inform your parents and by tomorrow you will all be able to enjoy the sunshine from the comfort of your bedrooms.' The news was met by rapturous applause and Miss Cackle smiled. The rest of the day was spent with music and dancing, and Miss Cackle watching contentedly from the sidelines.

'Is she really going to be alright?' asked Miss Drill, leaning on the wall beside the headmistress. It was not hard to miss the false laughter and distracted look in her eyes.

'I don't know,' she replied honestly. 'She has been through so much and I could see she was trying to hide how much pain she was in...It's not something that leaves you easily, but I couldn't tell you how she is feeling. She was engaged to him, William, but don't ever tell her I told you that or she will literally murder me.' Imogen's eyes softened with sadness. 'She doesn't seem to be dealing with it, is what I mean.' Amelia knew that Constance would never be one to break down crying in front of her, even as her closest friend, but how she had denied any expression of sadness worried her. There was no shame in admitting despondency; but this was Miss Hardbroom, the iron lung which kept the school functioning. God help them if she ever...

'The person she loved died and I can bet she blames herself, though obviously it isn't her fault. Whatever happens now, William changed her life and she has to adjust to who she is now without him to keep her strong. It's a miracle that she survived, more than that an impossibility, but she has been through so much. It will take time, but I know she will be fine, she has to be. I can't see her doing anything stupid, though; she loves this school more than she cares to admit sometimes, and by God it loves her,' Miss Drill philosophised.

'Maybe we should just keep an eye on her, perhaps more subtly than we have managed before!' The headmistress brightened slightly and went to join the girls. It was not every day that you realised that everything could, just, be alright again.

* * *

><p><strong>You read it, now review it? Please? :) Don't mind sounding desperate but it does make my day :P<strong>


	20. Chapter 20

**OMG last ever chapter ever of this FF! I have to say, the crux of my inspiration came from the fabulously amazingly wonderful Kate Duchene and her amazing portrayal of HB in the worst witch, but also from the other brilliant authors on this site!**

**Special thanks to Princess Sammi, who has always reviewed kindly and given me a lot of support and lovely comments :) Thanks hun**

**Also to chocomoon, Sammy1257 and everyone else who has reviewed, it means a lot that people actually like the ravings of a mad-woman bored from revising during Easter :P**

**So read, enjoy the final chapter of a rather long FF and let me know what you thought overall XD**

**Many thanks,**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 20 – Another beginning<strong>

The penultimate day of the Easter holidays brought beautiful flowers and clear, sunny skies. The air was fresh and new, with animals grazing in meadows and blooms decorating the green pastures. A church in April's dying days was filled with coloured light streaming from the stained glass windows, but outside the church the beauty of the world seemed numbed, dull and pointless as the coffin was lowered into the ground.

William Charles Johnson had two groups of people residing by his newly dug grave. On one side, the friends that had known him from university and his two brothers with their families stood mourning the loss of the man they had known. On the other, every last girl and member of staff at Cackle's Academy was crowded in black to pay the respects to someone who had played such a part in their lives over the past weeks of term. Miss Cackle had asked the permission of the family beforehand and, although they were staggered that hundreds had come to say goodbye, they were happy to see that he was appreciated at the school.

Constance had, despite warning from the doctors and protests from Miss Cackle, persuaded them to let her come to the funeral. She was supported on one side by Mildred, who had asked if she could help, and a walking stick which although she complained about, she leaned on heavily as she walked. Although she stood at the front by the graveside, she did not draw attention to herself or introduce herself to William's family; Miss Cackle guessed that she wanted to mourn in private and did not need the hassle of a thousand questions.

The service was simple but charming and befitting of the person Constance had known. She ignored the pain in her legs and her head, giving everything she could just to keep upright and keep face to honour the memory of the man she loved. She wanted to break down at his graveside, screaming how it wasn't fair that he had been taken from her so early in their relationship; but that was not her. She had learnt a lot about herself since battling Mistress Broomhead, and one thing was that she needed to be seen as infallible because then she could deal with things her own way. She couldn't look Miss Cackle in the eye, but just stared down at the coffin and tried to console herself in silence.

As Miss Cackle escorted the girls to their parents, all waiting outside the church gates, and the other mourners returned to their cars, Miss Hardbroom was left alone by the newly finished grave. She had asked Mildred to leave her for a while and the girl had understood; she was brighter than she was sometimes given credit for, Constance had to admit. She had wanted to say goodbye, just her and William, but now she didn't know what to say. She knew he couldn't hear her, and talking to herself would just be foolish, so she lifted her right arm gingerly and waved her fingers, causing a wreath of red roses to appear before her eyes with the words _I love you_ written in her handwriting across the centre. She moved her arm so that it was resting against the gravestone and she closed her eyes, his face at the forefront of her mind; the perfect goodbye.

'Sorry, excuse me, are you Constance Hardbroom?' She turned abruptly, though a little too much so and bent over slightly, her hand across her abdomen as a bolt of pain shot through her.

'Are you alright?' It was a tall man, younger than William had been but with the same warm, caring smile and the same colour hair. He had darker eyes and was of a larger build, clearly not the intellectual his brother had been.

'I am fine,' she said through gritted teeth straightening up. 'What is it you wanted?'

'I am William's younger brother Peter. I'm sorry to intrude but, well, I know who you are; he wrote about you in his letters often enough and I suppose I just wanted to meet you.'

'Yes, well, you've met me now,' said Constance shortly; her voice was slightly harsher than she had intended but she was not in the mood for exchanging sentiments.

'I just wanted you to know, he never stopped talking about you. He said that you were the love of his life and he couldn't believe that he'd found you.' Peter's words caught Constance before she could start to leave and the ring she now wore on her left hand felt heavier as his words registered with her and she agreed with herself to give him a few moments of her time.

'We were in love, and that is something I never thought I would say,' she admitted honestly.

'Look, I know how you saved all of those girls at the academy and I can see that it hasn't been easy. I know you couldn't have done anything to save him,' Peter said, his eyes filling with tears.

'No, I don't believe I could,' whispered Constance, though she knew that her conscience would never allow her to truly believe it.

'But that doesn't mean it was your fault that he died. Mistress Broomhead will pay for what she did to him and besides, it's down to you that he died a happy, contented man. I was going through his belongings the other day and found this. I haven't opened it, but I know he was going to give it to you as an engagement present. Thank you, Constance.' He handed her a large square box, gold in colour and wrapped in silk ribbon. She opened it as Peter walked away and smiled; how had he known?

'Constance?' She rolled her eyes and turned to see Miss Cackle standing by her.

'Can't I get a moment's peace from anybody?' she asked half jokingly, closing the lid of the package.

'Are you OK?'

'Why wouldn't I be?' Constance replied. 'I have said my goodbyes and I am ready to face the future.'

She walked, her stick bearing the brunt of her weight quite well as she refused to let Miss Cackle escort her. They walked slowly towards the gates of the church, with Miss Cackle looking over at Constance to check she was coping.

'Why is it that Mistress Broomhead had such a hold on you?' The question had always been there in her mind, ever since their first meeting. It was now, Constance knew, that she could finally impart the truth to her closest friend, the one who had been with her through everything.

'I was given as a pupil to Mistress Broomhead when I was ten years old by my father. She said I had potential and he wasn't exactly reluctant to get rid of me. She influenced everything in my life, never relenting and never allowing me freedom; until I learned how to get past her. She the most callous person I have ever had the misfortune to come across and unfortunately I was weak; it took me time to realise that you obey her unless you want to wake up, cold and shivering in the dark with a broken arm and blood on your pillow.' Miss Cackle couldn't believe what she was hearing. How was it that this woman had never been prosecuted? Constance's voice shook ever so slightly as she spoke, but she was no longer afraid; that was something for her at least.

Amelia remembered the day Constance had returned to the castle to begin teaching, a week after her appointment as potions mistress. She had never found the right time to ask, but she feared she already knew the horrific truth. Constance had been bright and enthusiastic at the meeting, but when she had appeared by the castle doors she had been shaken, crying and in pain; she had never revealed why. She simply locked herself in the room she had been allocated for two weeks before emerging, somewhat different and sterner, the bright twinkle in her eye replaced with a determination to succeed and to be unbreakable, without weakness or fear casting a shadow over her reputation. She didn't even need to ask.

'The last time I saw her, before I came to teach at the academy, I had been seeing a man, an artist. I had met him whilst running an errand for Mistress Broomhead and we only ever acquainted in secret, under the cover of darkness to avoid suspicion. It was silly really, but I felt I needed him and he was the first person I ever really connected with.'

'After I graduated, I was free. I was free of that woman for the rest of my life and she had no hold on me anymore. I could leave to teach at Cackle's and be with the man I loved without having to look over my shoulder for her watching over me. Only she knew; I don't know how, but I was foolish to assume that she didn't. On the day before I left, she called me into her office and told me with a sickening smile how she had turned him over to the authorities for a crime we both knew he didn't commit. I never saw him again.'

'I tried to stand up to her, but she has always had some power over people and she...well she punished me for my naivety. I think it was two days before she let me go, but to be honest I lost all concept of time and nearly lost my mind to her. She took everything that day and enjoyed doing it, but it reminded me that she would always have a hold over me and I should have known she was always watching. It changed me and she knew I would never stray from the path she had laid out for me again.'

The revelation was almost too much for Amelia to take in. Horrific images ran through her mind of a terrified child, abandoned by her family and at the mercy of a tyrannical tutor hell-bent on making her who she wanted her to be. She couldn't find the words, what would you say? I'm sorry? That word, though powerful, would never be enough but Constance walked on, amazingly still composed. It had been a long time since Constance had thought about that night, remembering how the screams had bounced off the walls and been reciprocated with such cruel laughter. But now, it was over. It was over forever and there was no use in crying over the past; she had a future to look forward to.

There were several minutes of silence which followed the revelations Constance had made, but more questions plagued Miss Cackle's mind.

'You want to know, don't you? How it is that I'm still here.' How had Constance known what she was thinking? Or was it written in her face?

'Well I can tell you now. When I died, I was ready to go and be with William or whatever comes next; but I saw something, something which meant I couldn't take the easy option and let go. I drew energy from my surroundings, magic from the air and used it to force myself back; not the best of experiences I can tell you, but I knew that I had to.'

'What did you see?' asked Miss Cackle curiously.

'I saw that there were people who needed me, Amelia, and that William was not completely gone from this world.' Constance stopped and placed a hand on her stomach. Amelia assumed at first that she was in pain, but saw no flicker of it on her face. It took a moment for her to realise, before she clapped a hand to her mouth in shock.

'You're...'

'Yes, I am; never thought it would happen, it being me, but it did. I saw my child, Amelia, my baby and it would have died with me. I couldn't let that happen, what sort of person would I be if I let a child die for my own selfish pursuits? Besides, now there is something to live for, something to give my life meaning again. I'm going to have a baby!' Her eyes brimmed with tears of realisation and, for the first day in the longest while, joy. She had never been the maternal type, devoting her life to frightening children into respecting her rather than thinking of having them herself. But now she was growing quite accustomed to the idea of a little boy or girl with her dark hair and his gentle face running around and calling her mum.

She thought fondly of the present she still carried in her hand and wondered how it was possible that William had found out. A small white rattle with a mother of pearl handle had been encased in the wrapping. Constance fought not to cry, knowing how her child would never know its father and how William would never get to see the child; but there was nothing that could change that now. Life had to move on, for her sake and for the sake of the life growing within her.

Amelia drew her into a close but appropriately gentle embrace; she could see that although Constance had lost so much, that she could have something wonderful in her life again.

* * *

><p>That night, Constance materialised at the lake where they had spent so many evenings together. It took every ounce of energy and concentration for her to get there, and she had to sit on the leafy ground with her arms supported by a rock. She sat, regaining her strength, one hand over her stomach where she knew a baby was growing inside her. It was a miracle really, that it hadn't been harmed by Mistress Broomhead's assault, but she was sure that it hadn't been. She could see the baby, when she closed her eyes, and she knew that it was safe and well within her. It would only be eight more months before she would have to confront the horrors of childbirth, though she knew it would all be worth it to have a son or daughter. She had never really considered it to be something that she wanted before, but now that she was in this position she knew that she couldn't let anything happen to the child, her child.<p>

She had asked Amelia to keep the knowledge to herself, so that it would not be jinxed so to speak. Constance had never been overly suspicious, but it had sounded better than not wanting anyone else to know. She quite liked having a secret, though she dreaded to think of Miss Bat or Miss Drill's reactions let alone the girls'. Pondering over dates in her head, she gathered that it would be late July by the time her appearance would give her away, but with concealment spells to be on the safe side she wouldn't have to worry until the summer term. Constance looked up at the night sky and wished she could share her view with William once more. The moon and the stars shone brightly, an elegy to a noble man and a promise of new beginnings. He would always have a place in her heart; he had opened her eyes, but been cruelly taken from her just as she was starting to discover how to love someone. But now she had a new person in her life to love and she relished the challenge.

* * *

><p><strong>Aww, that's all folks! I would love reviews now that it's finished and I am honestly not sure whether to do a sequel but I will have to think it over - and of course your opinions count!<strong>

**Thanks so much, I have really enjoyed this as my first ever FF and hope to create many more:) Ciao,**

**HB rules**

**x**


End file.
